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AN 

..UTHENTIC NARRATIVE 

OF THE LIFE 

or 

JOSHUA SLOCUM: 

CONTAINING A SUCClKCT ACCOUNT OF HIS 

REVOLUTIONARY SERVICES, 

TOGETHER WITH OTHER 

INTERESTING REMINISENCES AND ITHRILLING INCIDENTS 
IN HIS EVENTFUL LIFE. 

CAREFULLY COMPILED BY HIS ELDEST SON 

/ 

JOHN SLOCUM. 



EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINGS. 



HARTFORD : 

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 

1844. 



Ens 



aviTAHHA; 



Entered according to act of Congre33, in the year 1844, 

BY JOHN SLOCUM, , 

ia the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United 
States, for the District of Coanecticut. 



.Jioiriu 



PREFATORY REMARKS. 



There are but few of the present generation that 
duly appreciate the trials, the sufferings and the im- 
mense sacrifices that were made by the fathers of the 
Revolution to achieve the glorious Independence we 
are now enjoying. True it is, the names of a Wash- 
ington, a Warren, a Green, and a host of others, 
who figured conspicuously in that mighty contest, 
have been blazoned in history, and their memories 
will go down to posterity embalmed with the 
tenderest recollections of the heart. Yes, their 
names will live in story, and generation upon 
generation yet unborn, "will rise up and call 
them blessed." But while we concede to these 
renowned Generals and distinguished Civilians all 
the praise their exalted services deserve, we should 



VI PREFATORY REMARKS. 

not forget those who in a more humble and subordi- 
i^ate capacity, faithfully served their country in the 
" days that tried men's souls." One by one they are 
fast going down to the grave, perhaps " unhonored 
and unsung." Few, very few, yet survive among us 
the walking monuments of the principles of '76. 
While yet they live, — while the low, glimmering, 
dying taper yet quivers into darkness, let them be 
respected; and let those of the present more selfish 
generation emulate their noble example. 

It is proper, nay, it is our duty, to cherish in grate- 
ful remembrance, the services of these men, and, 
as they from time to time depart from among us, 
their individual history cannot fail to be interesting. 
It is with a view of perpetuating the memory of one 
of these, that this work is presented to the public. 

Among the number who early embarked in this 
great struggle, and periled life, health and every 
thing dear on earth, was my venerated father, Josh- 
ua Slocum. Strongly imbued with a love of civil 
and religious liberty, he was among the first to step 
forward to fight the battles of his country. In doing 
this he incurred the high displeasure of his father 
and other family connexions, who were opposed to 
the war, or in otjier words Tories, and received at 



PREFATORY REMARKS. Vll 

their hands naught but contumely and reproach* 
But his sense of duty and devotedness to country 
prompted him to action, and the threat of incurring 
parental displeasure, passed by unheeded. He serv- 
ed through the entire war — fought in many of the 
principal battles, and endured more hardship and 
suffering than ordinarily falls to the lot of man. It 
was his intention to have published this Narrative 
during his life, but it was delayed till old age, and the 
infirmities incident upon it, prevented. It was 
among his last requests that I should prepare and 
present it to the public. In compliance with his 
parting injunction it is now thrown before the world. 
It is a plain, unvarnished tale of truth, and if its pe- 
rusal has the effect to inspire among our country- 
men a love of liberty and a hatred of tyranny, then 
the great desire of myself and departed sire will 
have been accomplished. 

Although this pubhcation has been delayed to this 
late period, still it is believed the reader will find 
much in it to interest and instruct. Unlike many of 
the catch-penny productions of the day — mere fic- 
tions, got up for money making purposes — this work 
possesses the rare quality of being predicated on 
truth. It is compiled from written and oral state- 



Vlll PREFATORY REMARKS. 

ments made by the subject of it, while yet the inci- 
dents were fresh in his recollection — and, it is be- 
lieved, they have lost none of their interest by hav- 
ing been so long kept from the public eye. 

If the reader should think this sketch too high 
wrought, or that the writer has presented his hero 
in too glowing colors, he is requested, in all charity, 
to attribute the fault, if fault it is, to a filial affection 
the promptings of which he could not resist. 

For the principal facts connected with the early 
history of my father, I am indebted to an elderly 
gentleman who knew him well in his boyhood and in 
after life, and who participated with him in many of 
the trials and hardships he was called upon to en- 
counter. This statement is made lest the charge of 
egotism should be brought against him by the cap- 
tious and incredulous. 

JOHN SLOCUM. 

Hartford, 1844. 



■ i>— ijliii 

LIFE AND ADVENTURES 

OF 

JOSHUA SLOCUM. 



CHAPTER I. 

His birth — Precocious Infancy — Early intellectual 
and physical developements — Startling Incident, 

The subject of this sketch was born in the town 
of Franklin, Franklin county in the State of Massa- 
chusetts, in 1760. He was the sixth son of Joshua 
and Jerusha Slocum, who emigrated to this country 
from England, and were among the early settlers of 
the colony. His parents, were honest, frugal and 
industrious, and gave to their children all the infor- 
mation that the distracted state of the colonies and 
their limited means of education could impart. Josh- 
ua was a child of great promise — and the proud 
promises which his infancy gave his manhood did not 
fail to realize. At the early age of six he exhibited 



10 LIFE OF 

traits of character and intellectual developements, 
which astonished, not alone his parents, but indeed 
all under whose observation he came. He was cal- 
led an extraordinary child — a prodigy. Every suc- 
cessive year tended more and more to develope his 
precocious faculties, and had he have lived at the 
present day, and enjoyed the advantages which our 
inimitable literary institutions afford, he would un- 
doubtedly have become a giant in intellect. But 
such was not his good fortune — such, indeed, was 
not the good fortune of thousands of others who with 
stout hearts and strong arms, fought the battles of 
our country, and whose blood fattened the soil of 
their nativity. How thankful, then, should we be 
that our lot has been cast in such pleasant places, and 
how grateful to those revolutionary heroes who per- 
iled their lives and every thing dear on earth, to se- 
cure to us so blessed a political heritage. 

But to return to our sketch — If young Slocum 
possessed extraordinary mental powers, he also em- 
bodied, in an eminent degree, great physical propor- 
tions. At the age of fourteen, he possessed the bone 
and sinew, figure, weight and size of a man of twen- 
ty, and but few of that age in his native town could 
successfully compete with him in the field, the work- 
shop, or the plays and pastimes of the day. In 
gymnastic feats he left all competitors in the dis- 
tance, and in all deeds of daring, his comrades nev- 
er lacked for a leader. But although thus powerful- 
ly constituted, and possessing such decided advanta- 



JOSHUA SLOCtJM. 11 

ges over his fellows, he was far from being supercil- 
ious or quarrelsome. Possessed, naturally of a mild 
and conciliatory disposition, he exerted himself on 
all occasions, to check and subdue the angry pas- 
sions and ebullitions which now and then broke out 
among his associates. Indeed, he was proverbially 
a peace-maker — and was always called upon as urn-, 
pire in settling difficulties among his playmates. By 
this the reader will not understand that he was in- 
sensible to indignity. Not so. High-minded, hon- 
orable and sensitive, he could not brook an insult, or 
suffer WTong at the hands of any one, without de- 
manding reparation, and when this was refused, and 
he excited to action, it was like arousing the lion 
from his lair. 

We have been thus particular and minute in our 
description of young Slocum in order to prepare the 
mind of the reader for the many remarkable incidents 
that marked the progress ot his after life, all of which 
will be detailed in the course of these pages. 

The subject of this sketch became early attached 
to the chase, and soon proved an adept in the sci- 
ence of gunning. This propensity was encouraged 
by his father from the circumstance that bears, 
wolves and other wild animals were in the habit of 
making predatory incursions to his premises, and of 
not unfrequently bearing off sheep, poultry, &c. from 
his yards. His bold and fearless onsets upon these 
dangerous and annoying assailants, excited the aston- 
ishment of many of the older inhabitants, and acquir- 



12 LIFE OP 

ed for him a reputation and a name which spread 
through the surrounding country. So well pleased 
was his father with his daring exploits, that he pur- 
chased a rifle in Boston of superior workmanship, 
and presented to him — little dreaming, however, that 
it was one day destined to be turned against his 
friends, and to deal death and destruction in the 
field of battle. With his rifle and faithful dog it was 
Joshua's wont every day to sally into the woods — 
and his every return brought with it proud trophies 
of his prowess. Bears, wolves, catamounts, and oth- 
er wild beasts, rapidly disappeared before his well- 
directed fire, and were nearly exterminated from the 
neighborhood. 

It was on one of these hunting excursions that a 
thrilHng incident occurred, which came well-nigh 
depriving our juvenile sportsman and his younger 
brother of their lives, and the country of his after- 
wards valuable services. This incident I will here 
narrate. So often have I heard the old gentleman 
repeat the story in the family circle and elsewhere, 
during winter evenings, that it has become as famil- 
iar to me as household words — and I shall, therefore, 
be enabled to present it to the reader with great ac- 
curacy and minuteness. 

It was on a beautiful morning in October, that he 
resolved on making an excursion to his favorite hunt- 
ing grounds, distant about four miles from the fami- 
ly mansion, and, contrary to his usual practice, took 
with him his younger brother, Samuel. Mounting 



JOSntA SLOCUM. IS- 

his trusty rifle, and caparisoned with powder-horn, 
shot-pouch and all the necessary implements of the 
sportsman, (not forgetting a plentiful supply of pro- 
visions,) they sallied forth at early dawn in search of 
game. The forenoon wore away, and at meridian 
he had killed but a few gray squirrels, a raccoon and 
some smaller game. Somewhat fatigued with their 
long tramp, they sat down under a large hickory 
tree and regaled themselves on the provisions they 
had brought with them. While eating they observ- 
ed that the tree was heavily laden with nuts, and as 
they had had poor luck in gunning it was proposed 
to fill the game-bags with nuts to carry home. As 
the frost had not fully opened them they procured 
clubs for the purpose of beating them off, and plac- 
ing the rifle at the foot of the tree, they both ascend- 
ed it, >Scarce had they commenced operations, 
when a huge black bear emerged from a thicket and 
proceeded direct for the tree. Knowing the bear's 
propensity for climbing, Joshua, to use his own ex- 
pression, " for the first time in his life began to feel 
streaked," and regretted that he had not his faithful 
rifle by his side. As it was, however, there was no 
alternative but to remain quiet, and watch the move- 
ments of his bearship. While in this state of intense 
anxiety and fear, the bear raised himself erect upon 
his hind feet and moved direct for the tree: after 
passing around it several times, he thrust his huge 
paws into the bark and began to hitch himself up. 
At this juncture the younger brother became greatly 
2 



14 LIFE OF 

alarmed, and began to cry ; but Joshua endeavored 
to appease him — saying to liim that they would be 
able to defend themselves with their clubs, and di- 
rected him to climb above ; both moved higher into 
the tree. In the mean time the bear was making 
rapid advances, and when within reaching distance, 
Joshua aimed a blow at his head, hoping to stun him 
or drive him from his position ; but the bear parried 
the blow and disarmed him with the adroitness of a 
fencing master. He then seized his brothers club 
and aimed a second blow at his now exasperated en- 
emy — but with no better success, for the bear inter- 
posed his huge paw, averted the blow, and the club 
fell inoxious to the ground. At this time the two 
brothers began to accelerate their movement to the 
top of the tree, while the bear kept in close juxtapo- 
sition to them. They had now all reached the high- 
est branches of the tree, and were all on one limb, 
the bear beginning to lacerate the feet and ancles of 
Joshua. All now was given up for lost, but just at 
that moment the top of the tree began to bend and 
crack, and finally broke, when down came Joshua, 
Samuel, bear and all, about thirty feet to the ground. 
The concussion was terrible, and they all lay insen- 
sible for some time. Upon recovering it was found 
that Samuel was not much injured, he having fallen 
partly on the bear, and the bear upon Joshua's leg 
dislocating his ankle. Samuel got out of the way as 
soon as he could, and bruen soon after relieved Josh- 
ua by hitching off from his leg, evidently much in- 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 15 

jured, and began slowly to Yun off, quite willifig to 
make a draw game of it. But Joshua, although suf- 
fering greatly from his wound, determined th^t mat- 
ters should not end so, and calling to his brother for 
his rifle he discharged it at his retreating foe. The 
ball took effect in his left thigh. Foaming with rage 
and smarting under his wounds, the bear turned in- 
stantly upon his assailant, when a contest of doubtful 
issue ensued. As the bear approached, the younger 
brother fled, but our hero stood his ground manful- 
ly. Not having time to re-load, his only means of 
defence lay in the butt of his trusty rifle. With this 
he encountered his foe, who now maddened to des- 
peration, made a fearful onset. Exhibiting the same 
skill he had displayed in the tree, the bear for a length 
of time successfully parried the blows of our hero, 
who, being nearly exhausted from the pain of his 
wounds and the effect of the fall, began to entertain 
fears that he would disarm him, and, as he facetious- 
ly remarked, " give him a fraternal hug." But by a 
fortunate and well directed blow, he finally brought 
him to the ground, and plunging his knife into his 
body, ended the rencounter. 

Finding himself unable to walk home, Joshua des- 
patched his brother to the village to inform his fa- 
ther of his situation, who, with some of his neigh- 
bors, hastened to his relief, and conveyed him home. 
The bear too, was borne in triumph to the town, and 
the next day the village of Franklin resounded with 
the exploits and hair-breadth escapes of Joshua Slo- 



16 LIFE OP 

cum. Nor was this all. A barbecue was determin- 
ed upon, and his bearship, who would fain have 
made a meal of Joshua the day before, was now 
sumptuously served up to the villagers of Franklin. 
Hundreds of all ages and sexes were in attendance, 
and joy and hilarity was every where predominant. 
Our hero was toasted in full bumpers, and the fair 
daughters of Franklin vied with each other in doing 
him honors. 



80q8M3 riJb 




2* 



^diMUu[au bar, iDiiilunnu ae dd o) 



CHAPTER II, 

Biographical Sketch of the Slccum family — Valley of 
Wyoming — Indian Massacres, ^c. 

In the Chapter which is just closed, the reader 
has an inkhng of the materials of which Joshua SIo- 
cum was made up, and undoubtedly, in his mind's 
eye, has come to the conclusion that he was an ex- 
traordinary youth, and has prepared himself for oth- 
er and more startling traits of character as he ripens 
into manhood. In this he will not be disappointed. 
He will find the narrative increasing in interest 
through each successive page. The first Chapterleft 
our hero at the tender age of fourteen, encounter- 
ing bears, wolves, catamounts and other wild beasts 
in his native village ; but we shall by and by present 
him in a far different character. We must, howev- 
er, leave him for the present, whilst, by a pardona- 
ble digression, we present to the reader a brief bio- 
graphical sketch of the Slocum family. It is not our 
intention, however, to trace its genealogy or to 
follow in heraldic succession this ancient name. We 
shall confine ourselves to the father of the subject of 
this sketch. 
It is well known that at the breaking out of the 



20 LIFE OF 

Revolutionary war there was a strong party in this 
country conscientiously opposed to it — believing it 
to be an unnatural and unjustifiable resistance of pa- 
rental authority. They were taught to look up to the 
mother country as a child to a parent, and though 
borne down by an iron-handed oppression, they 
would still exclaim, — " England, with all thy faults 
we love thee still." Among the number who were 
thus warmly attached to the mother country, was 
the father of the subject of this sketch. So ardent 
was his affection for her and her cherished institu- 
tions, that no oppression, no grinding enactments 
could swerve him from his allegiance to his king, 
or induce him to abjure his fealty. He was, indeed, 
in revolutionary parlance, in every sense of the word, 
a Tory. As such he was looked upon by the friends 
of Liberty with a jealous eye, and his every move- 
ment watched with the closest scrutiny. Nor was 
this all. He had six sons, over three of whom he 
exercised a controlHng influence, and who, by 
threats, persuasions and promises, he induced to fol- 
low in his footsteps. But there was one over whom 
nor threats, nor persuasions, nor promises could avail 
aught — one whose stout heart and strong arms were 
nerved for the contest, and who panted for an op- 
portunity to strike for Liberty, for his Country and 
his God. Does the reader require to be informed 
that this was the youthful Joshua ? He it was who 
nobly spurned the authority of his sire, laughed to 
naught his threats, and indignantly rejected his prof- 
fered rewards. 



JOSHUA SLOCtJM. 1^1 

Finding his situation extremely unpleasant in the 
town of Franklin, his conduct being so closely scru- 
tinized, he determined to migrate. Accordingly in 
October, 1777, he removed, with most of his family, 
consisting of his wife and seven children, to the 
Wyoming Valley in the State of Pennsylvania, leav- 
ing young Joshua, as will be seen in the sequel, to 
fight the battles of his country. He located in the 
beautiful village of Wilks Barre, on the banks of the 
Susquehannah, — built him a cottage^ — and for a time 
enjoyed a comfortable degree of repose. But this 
repose was of short duration. The Delaware tribe 
of Indians became troublesome, committed many 
massacres, fired several buildings, and kept the vil- 
lage in a constant state of alarm. In August, 1778, 
a party of these Indians suddenly surrounded the 
house of Mr. Slocum — killed a young man who was 
transacting business there — rifled the house of its 
contents, and bore off into captivity one of his daugh- 
ters. Mr. S. was absent from the house at the time, 
and Mrs. Slocum, discovering the approach of the 
Indians, fled to the woods with all her children but 
the one above named, and miraculously escaped be- 
ing massacreed. About two months from the date 
of this transaction, another party of Indians came to 
the village and murdered a man in the employ of 
Mr. Slocum ; he also received a ball in his leg, which 
he carried to the day of his death. 

Constantly annoyed by the Indians, almost heart- 
broken, and despairing of ever again seeing her 



22 LIFE OP : 

daughter, Mrs. Slocum gradually declined, and in a 
few months was numbered with the dead. Mr. Slo- 
cum after making many fruitless and unavailing ef- 
forts to obtain information of his stolen daughter, 
gave her up for lost. Harassed by the Indians — 
and borne down by his bereavement, he determined 
upon leaving the Valley of Wyoming; and in 1779 
he disposed of his property there, and emigrated to 
Nova Scotia, where on undisputed British soil, and 
with unshaken attachment to his king, he drew his 
l^t breath. 

With a brief account of the subsequent discovery 
of the lost child we shall close this chapter. 

It has been remarked that every thing which fil- 
ial affection could inspire, or brotherly love induce, 
were put forth by the Slocum family, before their 
departure from the country, to obtain tidings of the 
captive girl, but in vain. Her fate was shrouded in 
mystery, and clouds and darkness hung upon it. Her 
aged parents went down to the grave, unconscious 
that she was among the living, and years rolled on 
ere the mystery was developed. That all-wise Be- 
ing whose providence had covered the event with so 
thick a veil, had determined that it should not always 
remain drawn over it. Under His watchful eye the 
little captive had been led safely through the wilder- 
ness, and years after her parents had slept in death, 
she was found among the living. Surely the ways 
of Providence are inscrutable and past finding out. 
The circumstances under which the long lost captive 



JOSHtA SLOCUM. 23 

was found, are briefly these. A gentleman travel- 
ling in an unfrequented part of Indiana, found him- 
self at night near the residence of an Indian, and be- 
ing fatigued and hungry he asked and obtained per- 
mission to stop for the night. On entering the house 
he was forcibly struck with the appearance of its 
mistress, who was an elderly woman and somewhat 
infirm. The whiteness of lier skin and other circum- 
stances, concurred to induce the belief that she was 
a white woman, and he determined on the morrow, 
should a favorable opportunity offer, to interrogate 
her on the subject. Such an opportunity soon oc- 
curred, in the absence of the other inmates of the 
house, when he entered into conversation with her, 
and soon drew from her the reluctant acknowledg- 
ment that she was not an Indian. She stated that 
when a mere child, her father's house, situated on 
the Susquehannah, while the rest of the family were 
absent, had been surrounded by a party of Dela- 
ware Indians— the house plundered, and she carried 
into captivity. She did not recollect her christian 
name, but said her father's name was Slocum- — that 
she had an indistinct recollection of the house and 
surrounding country, which she described, and also 
remembered that she had several brothers and sis- 
ters. She stated further that the Indians who cap- 
tured her adopted her into their family as one of their 
children, and treated her with great kindness — that 
upon their death she married one of the Miami tribe 
of Indians, by whom she had six children, &c., <fec. 



24 LIFE OP 

This information the gentleman above named com- 
municated through the pubHc press, by which means 
it reached the ear of a connexion of the family re- 
siding in Pennsylvania who, with several others, im- 
mediately started in search of their long lost relative. 
After a tedious journey they reached their place of 
destination, and were not long in recognizing their 
captured kinswoman. A peculiar mark which she 
bore, which had been handed down by tradition, to- 
gether with a variety of other concurrent circum- 
stances, left no doubt of her identity. Her friends 
found her, at an advanced age, surrounded by chil- 
dren and grand-children — happy in their society — 
abounding in wealth, and enjoying an enviable rep- 
utation in her neighborhood. So long had she been 
absent from the walks of civilized life that a knowl- 
edge of her native tongue had become merged in 
the idiom of the Indian, so that it became necessary 
to employ an interpreter in order to a correct under- 
standing of each other. 

In answer to the urgent and repeated solicitations 
of her friends to return with them and spend the 
remnant of her days in the quiet and peaceful walks 
of civilization, she interposed a firm and unqualified 
negative. Long inured to Indian life, her habits, as- 
sociations, thoughts and actions, were all closely as- 
similated to theirs. There indeed, were her chil- 
dren and her children's children— there her comfort- 
able mansion— her wide-spread and luxuriant fields 
and forests — and she preferred to live and die on a 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 2^ 

a spot endeared by so many holy and hallowed as- 
sociations. 

Taken away, as she was, at a very tender age-— 
with scarce a lingering recollection of her early child* 
hood — it was hardly to have been expected that she 
could give credence to the statements of her visitors, 
or believe them her kinsmen. Hence she looked up- 
on them, at first, with a distrustful eye, and heard 
their representations with an incredulous ear. But 
this incredulity gradually gave way to the convic- 
tions of truth ; and before their departure, she be- 
came satisfied that the same blood coursed through 
their veins. Thus convinced, she became more and 
more communicative — enquired with great earnest- 
ness about her father's family — spoke of the many 
happy years she had spent among the Indians — of 
the kindness and attention of her deceased husband 
— of her dutiful and affectionate childen and grand- 
children — alluded to her valuable possessions, and, 
in short, gave an interesting narrative of her past 
life — concluding by asking, if thus situated, it was 
her duty to abandon home, and all its endearments, 
for an unknown country, a knowledge of whose lan- 
guage she had lost — whose manners and customs, at 
her advanced age, she would be unable to acquire, 
and whose society she could not enjoy ? 

Her connexions finding it impossible to persuade 

her to accompany them, even on a short visit, bade 

her a long farewell and returned to their homes. 

The old lady lived several years after this, in the 
3 



26 LIFE OP > 

full fruition of every earthly comfort, and finally, at a 
very advanced age, surrendered up her breath to the 
Great Spirit who gave it. 

So much by v^^ay of digression. In the next chap- 
ter we shall again introduce young Joshua to the 
reader. 



tu 



CHAPTER IIL 

Preliminai^y Remarks — State of the Colonies — Bat- 
tle of Bunker Hill — Debut of young Slocum, 

The contemplative mind is struck with wonder 
and astonishment when it reflects upon the mighty 
events that marked the progress of the war of the 
Revolution — a war rendered hallowed by the blood 
pour^ out in its maintenance, and the rights and 
immunities emanating from the liberty it proclaim- 
ed. It would be matter of supererogation to advert 
to the causes which led to this great struggle, as they 
must be fresh in the recollection of all. Suffice it 
to say, that by a long series of cruelties, aggressions, 
usurpations and grinding oppressions, one following 
close upon the heels of the other, the colonists were 
driven as a last resort, to arms. They had borne and 
forborn, till forbearance could no longer be consid- 
ered a virtue, and, appealing to the God of armies 
for the rectitude of their intentions, they nerved 
themselves for the conflict. Lexington opened the 
grand drama. There the great ball was put in mo- 
tion which continued to roll on till America was free. 
The 19th of April *75, was a day memorable ia tha 
3* 



30 MPE OP 

annals of this mighty struggle, and has marked an 
era in the history of our country which the lapse of 
time, with all its changes, will be unable to subvert. 
On that day the first blood w^as shed in the war 
which terminated in our separation from the mother 
country, and changed our condition from that of 
colonists and slaves to Britain, to free, sovereign and 
Independent States. 

The slaughter of the militia at Lexington was cold- 
blooded, and wanton in the extreme. It was char- 
acterized by all those acts of cruelty which had 
marked the progress of Britain's troops in this and 
other countries, and fixed a deeper stain upon her 
escutcheon than had ever yet disgraced it, if, iiwleed, 
another blemish could be visible on the broad sur- 
face of its tarnished honor. Although every effort 
was made by the British to suppress the intelligence 
of this expedition, and to prevent its spreading 
through the country, yet it was sent on the wings 
of the wind to its farthest extremity. Expresses 
were despatched in every direction — bells were rung 
— and a continuous roar of cannon and musquetry, 
from town to town, apprized the colonists that the 
first blow had been struck. The effect of this an- 
nouncement was fairly electrical. The farmer aban- 
doned his plow in the field — the mechanic his work- 
shop, and the artizan his profession. One general 
burst of indignation ran through the land, and on ev- 
ery hand a determined spirit of resistance to oppres- 
sion was visible. In the language of Emmons — 



JOSHUA SLOCUMt, 31 

Th* ennobling cause was stamp'd on every brov^, 
The}'^ knelt to heaven — they pledged the solemn vow- 
To rid tlie land of tyrants and be free, 
Or sing a death-song for their jubilee. 
The weeding harrow mid the corn is stay'd— ' 
The hammer soundless on the anvil laid— ^ 
The line and plummet rest, upon the wall — 
The flocks no longer hear the shepherd's call. 
Forsaken reels the barge towards the shore, 
The recent moisture dripping from the oar — 
The net remains half coiled upon the beach— 
The halls are empty where preceptor's teach. 
No more by woodman's axe the forest jars, 
The urchin has forgot to fix the bars, 
Hence bellowing herds are straying from the fields 
While war's loud tocin round the land is pcal'd. 

When this intelhgence reached Franklin, it found 
Joshua Slocum, his father and two brothers, plant- 
ing in the field. On its announcement to them, a 
complaisant smile played upon the countenances of 
the elder Slocum and two of his sons — -the old man 
remarking " that the rebels were now receiving their 
just deserts for disloyalty to their king." Had a thun- 
derbolt from heaven descended at the instant, young 
Joshua would not have been more astounded. True 
it was he knew his father's warm attachment to the 
mother country, but he w^as not prepared to witness 
his exultation at the savage butchery of his neigh- 
bors. Quck as thought his purpose was formed. 
Indignantly hurling high in air the implement with 
which he was laboring, he turned to his father and 
thus addressed him : — "I have heard with astonish- 
ment, mingled with indignation, the declaration 



33 UtH Of 

tiN^hich has just escaped you. As a parent I have re- 
ceived at your hands every kindness, and these kind- 
nesses I have endeavored to requite. But the time 
has now come when the relations which subsist be- 
tween us must cease, and on this spot I now sever 
the ties of consanguinity and blood, and disown you 
as a father. This is strong language ; but when I 
see you supporting a government that has delibe- 
rately murdered our citizens in cold blood j which 
has violated all those just principles and usages which 
religion, law and time have sanctified ; which knows 
no justice but her own interest — no humanity dis- 
tinct from herself; — when I see you, instead of 
stretching forth your arm to rescue a suffering and 
bleeding country, exulting in its prostration and glo- 
rying in the butchery of your neighbors,^! feel that 
I shall be justified, in the eyes of high heaven, in 
making use of it. I this day abandon home, con* 
nexions and friends, with all the associations that 
render them dear, and determine henceforward to 
devote myself to my country. Whether weal or 
woe await me, I shall enjoy the consoling reflection 
of having performed my duty — whilst your reflec- 
tions, if you suffer yourself to reflect, must be such 
as devils and the damned have." 

Thus spake young Joshua in the exuberance of his 
patriotism and indignation ; but he afterwards, in 
his cooler moments, regretted his rashness, and while 
in the army addressed a letter to his father to that ef- 
fect.* 

* A copy of this letter will be found on another page. 



JOSHUA SLOCl/M. 3^' 

The bold and determined stand taken by his son, 
astonished and alarmed the father. He expostula- 
ted with him — advised, remonstrated and threaten- 
ed him. He pointed out to him the trials, the suf- 
ferings, the dangers of the camp — spoke of the utter 
inability of the colonists successfully to sustain them- 
selves in the contest — painted in glowing colors the 
severe punishments which would surely be visited 
upon the rebels — and appealed to him in a feeling 
and affectionate manner, to abandon his designs. 
But it availed naught. lie could not be induced to 
halt or hesitate or falter in his steady purpose, while 
yet w^ere ringing in his ears the groans of his bleed- 
ing countrymen ; the slirieks of the widow who had 
lost the partner of her bosom, and the lamentations 
of fathers bereft of affectionate sons. He had taken 
his position, and turned a deaf ear to threats and re- 
monstrances. 

The time had now arrived when he was to throw 
aside the implements of husbandry — to assume a 
new character, and figure in the capacity of a sol- 
dier. Nor was he long wanting for a field in which 
to make bis first appearance. The news of the bat- 
tle of Lexington, as before remarked, had spread 
like wild-fire through the surrounding country, and 
one universal, all-pervading feeling of resistance to 
tyranny, actuated the public mind. The quiet and . 
patriotic village of Franklin could not but be moved 
by its holy and irresistible influence. Her gallant 
sons were among the first to rally to the rescue. 



34 LIFE OF 

The very day the intelligence reached there, a call 
to arms was sounded — a volunteer company was 
organized, and the name of Joshua Slocum stood 
conspicuous on the roll. The day following, these 
choice spirits were on their line of march to the 
scene of danger and blood — carrying with them the 
benedictions of the man of God — the prayers of 
wives who might be made widows, and of children 
who miglit become fatherless. There was not one 
among this Spartan band whose heart beat higher 
for his country than young Slocum's, nor one whose 
gallant bearing shew more defiance to tyranny. His 
faithful rifle, which had carried desolation and death 
to the wild beasts of the forest, was soon to be turn- 
ed against a more cruel and blood-thirsty foe. 

The volunteers reached Roxbury after a some- 
what tedious march, and encamped at that place, 
whither volunteers were flocking from every direc- 
tion. It was aiow evident that a battle was soon to 
be fought, and all seemed ready for the crisis. The 
intelligence of the surrender of Ticonderoga* and 
Crown Point, with all their valuable stores, had al- 
ready reached Roxbury, and the greatest enthusi- 
asm prevailed among the troops. Every exertion 
that circumstances and time would permit^ were put 
forth by the officers to drill and dicipline the troops j 
and the raw militia and volunteers, hastily gathered 
together, on a sudden emergency, soon became some- 
w hat proficient in arms. Our young volunteer ap- 

»An account of this surrender will be found at the close of this Chapter, 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 35 

plied himself with great assiduity to the drill, and 
under the direction of an experienced officer, soon 
acquired a pretty thorough knowledge of company 
evolutions and manoeuvres. 

As the " busy note of preparation" was being 
sounded in every direction, and the hour of battle 
near at hand, the heart of Joshua began to relent, 
and for the first time, since his leaving home, the 
conviction flashed upon his mind that he owed an 
acknowledgment to his father. Under the implse of 
this conviction, he sat down and penned him the fol- 
lowing letter : — 

Camp, Roxbury, Mass. ) 
June 16th, 1775. ) 

Honored Parent — Although I have forfeited all 
claim to your kindness or courtesy, permit me to 
address you by this endearing appellation. You well 
remember our interview the day before I left my 
paternal home, and the rash and uncourteous lan- 
guage that escaped me on that occasion. Time and 
a little reflection, has softened the asperity of a tem- 
per naturally ardent, and led me to reflect upon the 
gross impropriety of my conduct. The scriptural in- 
junction of " honor thy father, ^^ has also been forci- 
bly impressed upon my mind, and that silent moni- 
tor, whose admonitions all should heed, speaks to me 
in a "still small voice," and points out the duty I owe 
to you. Expecting every hour to be summoned to 
the battle field, and not knowing what a day or an 



36 LIFE OP 

hour may bring forth, I hasten to perform a duty 
which a sense of justice and an upbraiding con- 
science urgently impose upon me. I rejoice that an 
opportunity has been spared me to make what httle 
of reparation I can for the great injustice I have 
done you, and here, with a contrite heart and sub- 
dued spirit, I humbly ask your forgiveness, as I have 
my God's, in the firm belief that both you and He 
will vouchsafe a favorable answer. I have now per- 
formed the happiest act of my life, and shall enter 
the great arena before me, with a relieved con- 
science, with a stout heart and strong arms, ready 
to do battle for my country. I may fall in perform- 
ing what I know to be my duty ; but with a firm re- 
liance upon Jehovah, and the justice of the cause in 
which I have embarked, I feel a prepossession that 
I shall pass through the ordeal unscathed. Be this 
as it may, I ask your prayers and the prayers of the 
family, for my safe deliverance. Remember me af- 
fectionately to mother, brothers and sisters. Say to 
them that my affections are not alienated, and that, 
should my life be spared, I shall one day embrace 
them again with filial and fraternal tenderness. 
Your affectionate but penitent Son, 

Joshua S locum, 

P. S. A council of general officers convened this 
morning in Harvard College, and decided upon for- 
tifying Bunker's Heights, A detachment of 1000 
men have been ordejred to perform this hazardous 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 37 

enterprize. The Franklin volunteers are among the 
number. Col. Prescott, at his own request, com- 
mands the expedition. We shall soon have hard 
fighting. God send us a safe deliverance. 

In haste, J. S. 

As anticipated in his letter, the time was near at 
hand when a battle was to be fought. It being ap- 
parent that it was the intention of the British to oc- 
cupy the important heights of Charlestown and Dor- 
chester, (which would enable them to command the 
surrounding country,) a council of officers was sum- 
moned who, after consultation, decided to fortify 
Bunker Hill. Accordingly, on the evening of the 
16th of June, (as stated in the above letter,) a detach- 
ment of one thousand men was ordered to throw up 
an entrenchment on Bunker Hill. Arrived at the 
spot, another consultation was held by the officers, 
when it was determined to approach still nearer the 
enemy, and fortify Breed's Hill, a high eminence in 
Charlestown, and within cannon-shot of Boston. 
" Here about midnight," says my father, *' we com- 
menced throwing up the redoubt. Scarce less si- 
lence could have prevailed at the erection of Solo- 
mon's temple, than was preserved by our troops 
through this eventful night. Gridley, with his corps 
of skillful engineers, circumscribed the hill — 

" And soon the outline of a rampart laid, 
Secure from danger of an enfilade." 

Putnam and Prescott were the first to ply the spade 
4 



38 LIFE OF 

and mattock, and their example was the animating 
soul of the whole hne. The work went bravely on^ 
— ^not a voice was heard above a wisper — and 

«* When Jhe morning stole upon the night. 
Melting the darkness" — 

the astonished eye of the British rested upon our 
half-finished battery. What a spectacle for them to 
behold f A redoubt of eight rods square, and a 
breast work extending seventy feet, marked out and 
nearly finished in a single night I A handful of raw, 
undisciplined militia, bearding, as it were, the lion in 
his very den, and hurling defiance in the teeth often 
thousand veteran soldiers ! As the morning sun 
chased avv^ay the mists and disclosed more fully to 
the enemy the extent of our operations, " confusion 
worse confounded" seemed to prevail The clang- 
or of arms, the tramping of horses, the beating of 
drums, (all of which we could distinctly hear,) 
gave a sure presage of what was to follow. Soon 
a dreadful cannonade commenced. Their ships and 
floating batteries opened upon os a tremendous fire, 
while bombs and other destructive missiles filled the 
air. This bombardment continued through the en- 
tire forenoon without a moment's cessation. But, 
nothing daunted, we did not relax our eflx)rts, or fal- 
ter in the least, in the great work before us — on the 
contrary, although fatigued and almost exhausted by 
the labor of the preceding night, we continued on 
with accelerated energy, till about noon, at which 
time we had nearly completed the redoubt. 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 39 

The bombardment nov/ ceased, and the movements 
of the enemy gave sure indications that they intend- 
ed to storm our works. We were not long in sus- 
pense ; for, about 12 o'clock they commenced cros- 
sing their troops from Boston, and landed at Morton's 
Point, bearing S. E, from our entrenchment. By 2 
o'clock they had landed, as near as could be ascer- 
tained, about 4000 men, commanded by Generals 
Howe and Pigot — names known to fame— and form- 
ed at the base of the hill. Our position was a re- 
doubt on the summit of the hill, of about eight rods 
square, with a breast work on the left of it, extend- 
ing about seventy feet down its eastern declivity. 
Almost destitute of provisions, dreadfully deficient in 
the munitions of war, and worn down by the fatigues 
of the night, doubts began to run through the line 
as to the possibihty of our being able to sustain our 
position. Without aid from the main body of the 
army this seemed almost impossible. Still there 
was no flinching in our ranks. The same determin- 
ed spirit actuated all. The Franklin volunteers es- 
pecially, lacking none of the enthusiasm which first 
aroused them to action. 

About 3 o'clock the British formed in two columns 
for the attack — one column moving along the Mys- 
tic River, with the view of attacking the redoubt in 
the rear, while the other ascended the hill directly 
in front of us. It was now, for the first time 
in my life, that the sensation of fear had come over 
me. But when I looked at the advancing columns 



40 LIFE OP 

of veteran troops of three times our number — all 
well drilled and disciplined in the science of arms, 
and commanded by distinguished officers — when I 
cast my eye upon the feeble redoubt we had just 
hastily thrown up, and our comparatively small num- 
ber of undisciplined troops to defend it, I confess 
my heart began to falter, and I almost wished my- 
self snug in the paternal mansion. These misgiv- 
ings, however, were of short duration. For when I 
reflected on the glorious cause in which I had em- 
barked, and the untold blessings which would accrue 
to countless millions, by its successful issue, a new 
feeling came over me, and commending myself to 
God, I nerved myself for the conflict. It soon came, 
with all its desolating horrors. 

The enemy advanced with a firm and steady tread, 
and began to blaze away upon us at quite a dis- 
tance, doing us but little injury. We, however, had 
received strict orders not to discharge a musket un- 
til they had approached sufficiently near to render 
our aim certain — to make every shot tell. But, im- 
patient of restraint, two of our volunteers, standing 
near to me, involuntarily touched the trigger, and 
the leaden messengers of death told the story. So 
sure was their aim, that I saw two of the enemy bite 
the dust. At this very moment. Col. Prescott was 
passing the line, and was nearly opposite us. I nev- 
er shall forget the expression of his countenance as 
he rode to and fro through the line, exclaiming — 
" the first man that discharges another musket before 



JOSHUA SLOCtJM. 41 

the word Is given, shall suffer death." His order was, 

♦♦ Keep deathful in reserve, till Putnam's sword 
Shall wave and give the consummating word." 

This order was strictly obeyed — not another gun 
was fired until the enemy had advanced to within 
eight rods of us — who, attributing our reserve to 
fear, calculated upon an easy victory. At this mo- 
ment, with upraised sword and stentorian voice, 
Putnam gave the dreadful signal which sent hundreds 
" unanointed, unanealed," into the presence of their 
God. One continuous roar of musketry was now 
kept up by our troops, till the assailants retreated in 
dismay to the point from whence they started — 
trampling in their course, the bodies of their dead 
and dying countrymen, who had fallen beneath our 
destructive fire. 

The fire from the Glasgow frigate and the two 
floating batteries in Charles River, which had been 
kept up from daylight, until the British began to as- 
cend the hill, was now renewed with increased vig- 
or, and, to add to the horrors of the scene, the in- 
cendiary torch of the enemy lit up the town of 
Charlestown — in the vain hope of diverting our at- 
tention, and awing us into submission. In the lan- 
guage of the poet, " he kindled all his leaping fires 
at once" — 

" A widow's house was first to catch the flame, 

And she, alas ! a lifeless corse became ; 
The shriekings of distress ascend the skies — 
Now here, now there the the bickering flashes rise 

4* 



42 LIFE OF 

On private buildings — on the public halls, 
On poverty's low shed the ruin falls. 
The fierce combustion spreading far and wide 
Thick rolls of smoke upon the whirlwind ride ; 
Red flames like serpent tongues are seen to flash 
Amid the folds, while falling buildirgs crash. 
Swift round the steeples fiery ringlets curl, 
And shoot above ihem with a maddening whirl. 
Catching from this to that, the blaze combines, 
Till all in one vast conflagration joins — 
A sea of flame beneath, from which ascend 
Volumes of fire that with the heavens contend." 

The scene was awfully subllnre, — never before or 
since, has my eye rested on its counterpart. But it 
had not the desired effect ; for, as the British rallied 
a second time to the assault, the stillness of death 
pervaded our ranks — not a nerve relaxed- — not a 
trembling hand was seen ; on the contrary, with well 
charged muskets and steady aim, our gallant band 
calmly awaited their approach. As before, we were 
strictly enjoined to reserve our fire till the word was 
given, and the enemy was allov/ed to approach still 
nearer our works, when we poured into them a sheet 
of fire, with such unerring aim, that they fled, terri- 
fied, a second time to the banks of the river, leaving 
as before, the field strewed with the wounded, the 
dying and the dead. 

Receiving reinforcements from the main body of 
their army, the British again rallied, and made a 
third and dreadful onset. What men could do to re- 
pel was done. But our ammunition becoming ex- 
hausted, we were obliged to abandon our position 
and retire from the field ; not, however, until we had 



JOSHUA SI/OCUM. 43 

emptied the cartridge boxes of the dead, the dying 
and the wounded, and with clubbed muskets doing 
battle till overpowered by numbers. At the moment 
the retreat was sounded, I had prostrated three of 
the enemy with the but-end of my rifle, and whilst a 
fourth, with stalwart arm, was aiming a deadly thrust 
at the side of our Lieutenant, I biought him to the 
ground, and thus saved the life of a gallant officer. 
Our retreat was conducted in good order, though 
we suffered severely from a raking fire from the 
ships and batteries of the enemy as we crossed over 
the neck at Charlestown. The British pursued us as 
far as Bunker Hill, when some fresh militia came up 
to our aid, and covered our retreat. We crossed 
the Neck about 7 o'clock in the evening. A part of 
the troops posted themselves on Winter and Pros- 
pect Hill, and the remainder proceeded to Cambridge. 
Our company, (minus three who fell in the engage- 
ment,) encamped at the latter place — worn down and 
exhausted by the fatigues of the day and preceding 
night. 

Thus ended this battle— a battle which, taken in 
all its bearings, was as important as any one fought 
during the revolution, and which, in point of brave- 
ry and noble daring, has scarce a parallel in the mil- 
itary annals of the world. It was this battle that 
gave nurture and vigor to the tree of liberty, which 
our fathers had planted, and which we now behold 
in its youthful maturity, standing protected from 
yiolation by the strong arms and stout hearts of 



44 LIFE OP 

a new generation — raising its majestic trunk towards 
heaven, and striking its deep roots in every direc- 
tion through our soil. It was this battle which broke 
the charm of British invincibility— taught the Ameri- 
cans the necessity of a stricter discipline — imparted 
new life and courage to the colonists, and inspired 
new hopes for a glorious and successful issue of the 
great contest in which they had embarked. 

Our loss in this engagement was 139 killed, and 
300 wounded. During the first onset of the British, 
three of our company were shot down by my side, 
and I received a bullet through the fleshy part of my 
left arm. Bleeding profusely, I was advised by the 
commanding officer to retire, but I determined to 
remain at my post ; and having my wound quickly 
staunched with a handkerchief, I was ready to meet 
the second advance of the British, when my rifle 
again drank deep in the blood of the enemy. 

The loss on the part of the British, was in killed 
226, and 800 wounded. Among the killed was Ma- 
jor Pitcairn, one of the flower of their army. I shall 
always believe that it was my rifle that sent him to 
his final account — for, as the enemy ascended the 
hill, I selected an officer answering his description, 
for a target, and as I took good aim, and my rifle 
seldom missing its object, I am very certain I killed 
him. 

Although this battle resulted in our being driven 
from the hill, yet it may well be claimed as a victory 
to the Americans. Still it cost us many valuable 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 45 

lives — among the number that; of the lamented War- 
ren. Yes, he whose lofty eloquence had so often re- 
sounded through Faneuel Hall, inspiring new hopes 
and confidence in his suffering countrymen, — he 
whom British gold could not corrupt, nor offers of 
preferment seduce from his devotion to country — 
he who could have so shaped his course as to 
have glided with steady keel, and soft and silken 
sails into the harbor of affluence and renown, fell 
bleeding in his country's cause. When the flame 
(which soon spread over the American continent and 
melted the colonies into one vast republic) was yet a 
spark, a latent, obscure, smotherd spark, it was in 
the patriot Warren's power to have been headed up 
in gold, enshrined in diamonds and loaded w^ith 
wealth and honors. But he preferred death in the 
cause of Liberty to all the blushing honors which 
blossom on the mire of corruption. He taught 
Americans with one hand and one heart, to frown 
on their oppressors where'er they met them ; and 
scorn their mercy while ihey felt their power. His 
death was a great loss to the cause, and its an- 
nouncement spread a gloom over the country. 

•' Green grow the grass that wraps the hero's grave." 



We cannot refrain from here inserting a new Na- 
tional Song — " The Death of Warri^en" written by 
Epes Sargent : 

On the day of the memorable engagement at Bun- 
ker Hill, Gen. Warren, then in the prime of life, join- 



46 LIFE OF 

ed the American ranks as a volunteer. " Tell me 
where I can be useful," said he, addressing General 
Putnam. "Go to the redoubt," was the reply; "you 
will there be covered." " I came not to be cover- 
ed," returned Warren ; "tell me where I shall be in 
the most danger ; tell me where the action will be 
the hottest." His friends earnestly strove to dis- 
suade him from exposing his person, but to no effect. 
" I know there is danger," said Warren, "but who 
does not think it sweet to die for his country ?" 



When the war cry of Liberty rang through the land 

To arms sprang our fathers, the foe to withstand. 

On old Banker Hill their entrenchment they rear, 

When the army is joined by a young volunteer. 

" Tempt not death I" cried his friends ; but he bade them good 

bye, 
Saying "01 it is sweet for our country to die." 

The tempest of battle now rages and swells 
Mid the thunder of cannon, the pealing of bells ; 
And a light not of battle, illumes yonder spire — 
Scene of wo and destruction, tis Charlestown on fire ! 
The young volunteer heeded not the sad cry, 
But murmurs, " 'tis sweet for our country to die !" 

With trumpets and banners the foe draweth near ; 

A volley of muketry checks their career ! — 

With the dead and the dying the hill side is strown, 

And the shout through our line is, " the day is our own." 

" Not yet," cries the young volunteer, '' do they fly I 

Stand firm ! it is sweet for our country to die I" 

Now our powder is spent — and they rally again ; 

" Retreat !" says our chief, " since unarmed we remain.'' 

But the young volunteer lingers yet on the field, 

Reluctant to fly and disdaining to yield. 

A shot ! ah ! he falls ! but his life's latest sigh 

la, *' 'tis sweet, O 'tis sweet for our country to die !" 



■i 



CHAPTER IV. 

Capture of Ticonderoga — The part Connecticut took 
in the cnterprize — Interesting reminiscences con- 
nected with it — Col. Ethan Allen's account of its 
surrender. 

In a note appended to a preceding page, we sta- 
ted that we should give an account of the capture 
of Ticonderoga at the close of Chapter III. But up- 
on reflection, we have concluded to devote more 
space to this important enterprize, and to assign to 
it a distinct Chapter. Although this will be a digres- 
sion, and in a manner break the thread of the narra- 
tive, still it is believed the reader, especially the 
Connecticut reader, when he has gone through with 
it, will not regret the course we have adopted. 

Although my father did not participate in the glo- 
ry of this achievement, yet he often spoke of the 
enthusiasm and rejoicings that prevailed among the 
troops when the tidings first reached Cambridge. 
And well might they rejoice. The capture of this 
important post, with over one hundred pieces of ord- 
nance, ammunition, provisions, and and all kinds of 
military stores, was an event eminently calculated to 
5 



60 LIFE OP 

inspire such a feeling, especially at a time when our 
army wns wofully deficient in all these respects. 

It is not, we believe, generally known to the read* 
er, certainly not to the younger class, that the bold 
emprise of reducing the fortresses of Ticonderoga 
and Crown Point, w as a Connecticut measure. Yet 
such is tfie fact. To a few choice spirits congrega- 
ted in Hartford, belongs the credit of having sugges- 
ted and arranged this hazardous adventure — an ad- 
venture vvhicli, whilst it reflects the highest credit 
upon its patriotic projectors, was productive of im- 
mense advantage to our country. But our admira- 
tion at the brilliancy with which this expedition was 
planned, is lost and absorbed in the superior admira- 
tion with which we contemplate the boldness and 
fearlessness with which it was carried into execution. 
A deed of nobler daring was scarce achieved during 
the whole revolutionary struggle. 

As we have stated that to Connecticut belonged 
the credit of projecting this enterprize, we should add 
that to one of her noble sons, (Col. Ethan Allen,) was 
assigned the hazardous duty of successfully execut- 
ing it. This gallant exploit won for him the admira- 
tion of his grateful countrymen, and crowned him 
with a wreath of never-dying glory. Had it been 
allowed him, this bold and adventurous soldier would 
have performed prodigies of valor ; but fate deter- 
mined otherwise. The fortunes of war threw him 
into the hands of a cruel and vindictive enemy ; he 
was loaded with irons, consigned to the loathsome 



JOSHUA. 8L0CUM. 51 

prisons of Britan, with felons and outlaws, and for 
nearly three years endured more suffering and hard- 
ship than scarce ever fell to the lot of humanity. 

We will now proceed to give some interesting 
facts connected with this expedition, and close the 
Chapter with Col. Allen's own account of the sur- 
render of Ticonderoga. We should, however, here 
premise, that for most of these facts we are indebt- 
ed to R. R. Hinman's " Historical Collection," a 
work deserving of a more extended patronage than 
it has received — embodying as it does, an interest- 
ing account, from official records, files, &c., of the 
part sustained by Connecticut in the war of the rev- 
olution. No other State in the confederacy imposed 
a bolder front to tyranny than did Connecticut — no 
other state, perhaps, suffered more in blood and treas- 
ure than did she — and no other work extant, contains 
so full, so graphic, or so interesting a delineation of 
the part slie performed in this great drama, as the 
w^ork to which we have alluded. Purchase it then- 
place it in your libraries, that your children and chil- 
dren's children may learn of what unflinching stuff 
the fathers of the revolution were made- — purchase 
it, and thus, in a measure, requite the compiler for 
the immense sacrifice of time and labor he has made 
in searching the archieves of the State, and gather- 
ing from their musty records, which the hand of time 
had almost obliterated, the interesting facts he has 
presented. 

But to our subject. Soon after the battle of Lex- 



62 LIFE OP 

ington, several gentlemen of Connecticut, at the head 
of whom were Gen. S. H. Parsons, the Hon. Silas 
Dean, and Gen. David Wooster, formed the bold de- 
sign of seizing the fortresses of Ticonderoga and 
Crown Point by surprise, and thus obtain command 
of Lakes George and Champlain. In order to exe- 
cute the plan with secrecy and despatch, they bor- 
rowed on their individual credit, the requisite funds 
from the colonial treasurer, at Hartford— collected 
about sixteen volunteers from Connecticut, and pro- 
ceeded to Berkshire county, Mass., where they ob- 
tained the aid of some influential citizens, and forty 
or fifty volunteers were added to their small force. 
The expedition then advanced to Bennington Yt., 
where it was joined by Ethan Allen, Seth Warner, 
and about one hundred volunteers. The little army, 
consisting of about one hundred and fifty men, thus 
raised, marched to Castleton, where a military or- 
ganization took place, and Ethan Allen, a native of 
Connecticut, was appointed commander, James Eas- 
ton, of Berkshire, second, and Seth Warner, an ofii- 
cer from Connecticut, third in command. Among 
the number who embarked in this expedition, was 
Capt. Noah Phelps, of Simsbury, Ct. Being a bold 
and resolute man, and withal, of good address, he 
was selected to proceed to the fort, examine its sit- 
uation and condition, and make report to his associ- 
ates. He proceeded from the southern part of lake- 
Champlain in a boat, and stopped for the night at a 
tavern near the fort. The officers of the garrison 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 53 

occupied a room adjoining that in which he slept, for 
a supper party, and as usual on such occasions, pro- 
tracted their entertainment to a very late hour. His 
contiguity to their room enabled him to overhear 
much of their conversation. In the course of their 
debauch, they frequently alluded to the commotion 
in the colonies, and spoke of the dilapidated condi- 
tion of their fort, &c. No suspicion being entertain- 
ed of him as a spy, he gained ready access to the 
fort early the next moring under pretence of getting 
shaved, and had a fine opportunity of scrutinizing its 
condition. While retiring through it, the command- 
ant walked with him, and conversed freely about the 
rebels, their movements, and their object. Capt. 
Phelps, for the time being, was of course a good loy- 
alist. Observing that a part of the wall in the fort 
had fallen down, Capt. P. remarked that it would af- 
ford but a feeble defence against the rebels if they 
should attack it. The commandant replied yes, but 
that is not our greatest misfortune, for all our powder 
is damaged, and before we can uce it we are obliged 
to dry and sift it. Possessing himself of all the in- 
formation he desired, he left the fort, proceeded to 
the lake shore, and procured a boatman to transport 
him down the lake. He entered the boat in plain 
view of the fort and under her guns. He had not 
proceeded far before he urged the boatman to exert 
himself and terminate the voyage as soon as possible. 
The boatman requested Capt. Phelps to take an oar 
and assist. This was declined, being in full view of 

6* v::.. 



W LIFE OF 

the fort, on the ground that he was no boatman. Af- 
ter rounding a point of land projecting into the lake 
and intercepting the view from the fort, he proposed 
taking the oar, and did so. The rapidity with which 
he plied the oar, excited the surprise of the boatman, 
who, with an oath, exclaimed, " you have seen a boat 
before now, sir." This circumstance at the time, 
led the boatman to suspect that his passenger was not 
a loyal subject, but fear of being overpowered pre- 
vented an attempt to carry him back to the fort, as 
he informed Capt. Phelps after the surrender. Capt. 
P. reached his place of destination, and communica- 
ted to his associates the situation of the fort, &c. 
The whole force now marched to a point opposite 
to Ticonderoga, where a select number, amounting 
to only eighty-three men, under command of Col. 
Allen, crossed the lake on the morning of the 10th of 
May, and assaulted and captured the fortress with- 
out the loss of a man. The cannon, small arms and 
ball contained in it, rendered this achievement more 
important in the success of the revolutionary war 
than posterity can appreciate. 

The remainder of this party, under Major War- 
ner, of Connecticut, also crossed the lake, and took 
by surprise, the fortress of Crown Point, with more 
than one hundred pieces of cannon, arms, amunition, 
&c., — while Col. Arnold, who had embarked on the 
lake in a small schooner, had captured an English 
armed vessel, and brought her into Ticonderoga. 
Thus was a free communication with the Canadas 
secured by command of the lakes. 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 55 

The seizure of the important fortress of Ticonde- 
roga, by Col. Allen, is thus related by himself: — 

"The first systematic and bloody attempt at Lex- 
ington, to enslave America, thoroughly electrified my 
mind, and fully determined me to take a part with 
nay country ; and while I was wishing for an oppor- 
tunity to signalize myself in its behalf, directions 
were privately sent to me from the then colony, now 
state of Connecticut, to raise the Green n)ountain 
boys, and if possible with them to surprise and take 
the fortress of Ticonderoga. This enterprize I cheer- 
fully undertook ; and after first guarding all the sev- 
eral passes that led thither, to cut oif all intelligence 
between the garrison and the country, made a for- 
ced march from Bennington, and arrived at the 
lake opposite Ticonderoga, on the morning of the 
8th day of May, 1775, with two hundred and thirty 
vahant Green mountain boys ; and it was with the 
utmost difficulty that I procured boats to cross the 
lake. However, I landed eighty-three near the gar- 
rison, and sent the boats back for the rear guard 
commanded by CoL Seth Warner ; but the day be- 
gan to dawn and I found myself necessitated to at- 
tack the fort before the rear could cross the lake ; 
and as it was hazardous, I harangued the officers 
and soldiers in the manner following : ' Friends and 
fellow soldiers — You have for a number of years past 
been a scourge and terror to arbitrary power. Your 
valor has been famed abroad, and acknowledged as 
it appears by the advice and orders to me from the 



56 LIFE OF 

General Assembly of Connecticut, to surprise and 
take the garrison now before us. I now propose to 
advance before you, and in person conduct you thro' 
the wicket gate, for we must this morning either quit 
our pretensions to valor, or possess ourselves of this 
fortress in a few minutes ; and inasmuch as it is a 
desperate attempt, which none but the bravest of 
men dare undertake, I do not urge it on any contra- 
ry to his will. You that will undertake voluntarily 
poise your firelock P The men being at this time 
drawn up each poised his musket. I ordered them 
to face to the right ; and at the head of the centre 
file, marched them immediately to the wicket gate 
aforesaid, where I found a sentry posted, who in- 
stantly snapped his fusee at me. I ran immediately 
towards him, and he retreated through the covered 
way into the parade, within the garrison, gave a hal- 
lo, and ran under bomb proof. My party who fol- 
lowed me into the fort, 1 formed on the parade in 
such a manner as to face the barracks which faced 
each other. The garrison being asleep except the 
sentries, we gave three huzzas, which greatly sur- 
prized them. One of the sentries made a pass at one 
of my officers with a charged bayonet, and slightly 
wounded him. My first thought was to kill him with 
my sword, but in an instant I altered the design and 
fury of the blow, to a slight cut on the side of the 
head ; upon which he droppod his gun, and asked 
quarters, which I readily granted him ; and demand- 
ed . the place where the commanding officer kept. 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 57 

He shewed me a pair of stairs in the front, which led 
up to a second story in said barracks, to which I im- 
mediately repaired, and ordered the commander, 
Capt. Delaplace, to come forth instantly, or I would 
sacrifice the whole garrison ; at which time the Cap- 
tain came immediately to the door, with his breech- 
es in his hand, when I ordered him to deliver to me 
the fort instantly ; he asked me by whose authority 
I demanded it. I answered him, " In the name of 
THE Great Jehovah and the Continental Con- 
gress." The authority of Congress being very lit- 
tle known at that time he began to speak again, but 
I interrupted him, and with my drawn sword near 
his head, again demanded an immediate surrenderor 
the garrison ; with which he then complied, and or- 
dered his men to be forthwith paraded without arms, 
as he had given up the garrison. In the mean time 
some of my officers had given orders and in conse- 
quence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors were 
beat down, and about one third of the garrison im- 
prisoned, which consisted of said commander, a lieu- 
tenant Feitham, a conductor of artillery, a gunner, 
two sergeants, and forty-four rank and file ; about 
one hundred pieces of cannon, one thirteen inch mor- 
tar, and a number of swivels. This surprise was 
carried into execution in the grey of the morning of 
the 10th of May, 1775. The sun seemed to rise 
that morning with a superior lustre ; and Ticonde- 
roga and its dependencies, smiled on its conquerors, 
who tossed about the flowing bowl, and wished sue- 



58 LIFE OP 

cess to Congress, and the liberty and freedom of 
America. Happy it was for mc at that time, that 
the future pages of the book of fate, which after- 
wards unfolded a miserable scene of two years and 
eight months imprisonment, were hid from my 
view." 

After the surrender of these fortresses, the prison- 
ers were marched to Hartford, Conn., where they 
were detained as prisoners of war. Among the 
number were Gov. Skeen, Major Skeen, (his son,) 
Maj. French, Capt. Delaplace, &c., besides women, 
children and several servants. Soon after their ar- 
rival here, Capt. Delaplace, late commandant of fort 
Ticonderoga, brought his petition to the General As- 
sembly, then in session at Hartford, in which he sta- 
ted that on the morning of the 10th of May, 1775, 
the garrison of the fortress of Ticonderoga had been 
captured ; and that neither the officers or soldiers 
held by the colony, had been guilty of any crime, and 
enquired by what authority Col. Allen acted, and 
why they were held as prisoners of war, asking at 
the same time the protection of the Assembly, and 
requesting an immediate enlargement. The Legisla- 
ture took no action on the petition of the valiant Cap- 
tain, but continued to hold them as prisoners of war. 

Fears being entertained that the prisonersjnight ef- 
fect their escape, some of them, by order of the Le- 
gislature, were removed to West Hartford, for their 
better security. Gov. Skeen, Major Skeen, and 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 50 

Major French, were among these. Gov. Skeen had 
his family with him. They took up their quarters 
at the house of widow Hooker, where they boarded at 
their own expense, about a year. Deposed from the 
gubernatorial chair by a handful of rebels, as he term- 
ed them— divested of his blushing honors, and cir- 
cumscribed in his rambles to a small country village, 
the wounded pride of the Governor and his house- 
hold could scarce brook control. They indulged in 
frequent taunts and jeers, and often grossly insulted 
the inhabitants. Even his negro John, it would seem, 
in a measure partook of the spirit of his master — es- 
pecially after he was elected to the high and honor- 
able office of " Governor of ihe Negro's of the 
Province of Connecticut." Their repeated insults 
highly incensed the people of West Hartford, and 
it was not till his ex-Excellency saw in course of 
preparation a coat of tar and feathers, that he was 
admonished that a civil tongue and more courteous 
demeanor, would alone save his back from its appli- 
cation. 

In May, 1775, the General Assembly directed the 
committee of the pay table, to give orders on the 
Treasurer of Connecticut for the payment of all per- 
sons who had expended moneys or given their writ- 
ten obligations therefor, or for personal service in ob- 
taining possession of Ticonderoga and Crown Point ; 
also for men and provisions used in taking and secur- 
ing said fortress, by any inhabitants of the colony, or 
others employed by them for that purpose. In May, 



60 LIFE OP 

1777, Samuel II. Parsons, Esq. informed by his me- 
morial to the General Assembly, that in April, 1775, 
himself, together with Col. Samuel Wyllys, and oth» 
ers, did undertake surprising and seizing the ene- 
my's fort at Ticonderoga, without the knowledge of 
said Assembly, and that for that purpose took a quan- 
tity of money from the Treasury, and gave their 
individual notes and receipts for said money, all 
which had been expended in said service ; and pray- 
ed the Assembly to cancel said notes and receipts so 
given to the Treasurer, which amounted to the sum 
of 810Z. The persons who signed these notes, &c. 
were Messrs. Parsons, Dean, Wyliis, Samuel Bishop, 
Jr., William Williams, Thomas Mumford, Adam 
Babcock, Joshua Porter, Jesse Root, Ezekiel Wil- 
liams, and Charles Webb ; which sum was directed 
to be charged over to the General Government, 



CHAPTER V. 

The vjounded SMier — Arrival of Gen, Washington 
at Cambridge — Organization of the Army, ^c. 

The wound received by my father in the battle 
which has been described, was of a more serious 
character than was at first apprehended, and came 
well-nigh being attended with fatal consequences. 
While in the heat of battle, with its consequent ex- 
citement, his every thought absorbed in the cause of 
his country, he was insensible to danger and forget- 
ful of personal suffering. Nor was his attention cal- 
led to his own situation, until he had ministered, as 
far as in him lay, to his woun^d, bleeding country- 
men. To alleviate their sufferings — to stanch their 
wounds, and administer consolation to the dying, was 
his only incentive to action. Although his heart was 
sickened and his humanity shocked at the appalling 
spectacle before him, still he did not intermit his 
friendly offices. Uninured to the camp and the hor- 
rors of the battle-field — a mere youth of sixteen, 
brought up in the peace and quietude of a country 
village — it was hardly to have been expected he 
could have sustained himself with so much fortitude 



64 LIFE OF 

in such a trying emergency. It was, indeed, a try- 
ing time to him. There lay, scarred and mangled^ 
Weeding and expiring, the gay companion of hi» 
youth — here the man of hoary age, perforated with 
wounds — and there the middle aged, gasping in 
death, yet glorying in the cause of Liberty. To use 
his own expression — " his heart sickened at the scene 
before him — his brain reeled, and to adopt the 
language of the lamented Warren on another occa- 
sion — * he wildly stared about, and with amazement 
asked, who spread the ruin round him ? Has haugh- 
ty France or cruel Spain sent forth her myrmidons, 
or has the grim Savage, thirsting after slaughter, 
twanged his destructive bow and sent his poisoned 
arrows to our hearts ? No ; none of these — 'tis the 
hand of Britain that inflicts the wound." 

Recovering from his transient reverie, he again de- 
voted himself to his " labor of love," and it was not 
till every little act of kindness had been performed 
for his fellow suffereif , that his thoughts for once re- 
verted to himself. Admonished by the pain of his 
wound, that he had too long neglected it, he began 
seriously to think of his own case. Upon removing 
the bandage, it was found that by want of attention 
and over exertion day and night in the holy oflices 
he had been engaged in, his limb had become much 
swollen, a violent inflammation had set in, and it was 
feared mortification would take place. Added to 
this a violent fever ensued, and for some days his life 
was despaired of. But by the aid of a skillful physi- 



iOSHTJA SLOCUM. 65 

cian and surgeon, and the best of nursing, he slowly 
recovered, and finally regained his wonted health 
and strength. During his protracted confinement, 
there was one who watched over him with anxious 
solicitude, and ministered to his every want — one 
who manifested more anxiety for his recovery than 
could father or mother, brother or sister — one whose 
purse was open to his wants, and whose thousand 
kindnesses alleviated his sufferings and disrobed pain 
of half its intensity. This ministering angel, this 
friend indeed, was the noble-harted, gallant soldier, 
Lieut. Allen, whose life was in jeopardy from a Brit- 
ish bayonet, the deadly thrust of which was parried 
by my father's rifle. This young officer had witnes- 
sed the noble bearing of our hero— had noted his in- 
domitable courage in battle, and felt he owed him a 
debt of gratitude for the great service he had render- 
ed him. He often spoke of him to his brother offi- 
cers, and intimated his intention, when an opportuni- 
ty presented, of favorably noticing him to Col. Pres- 
cott, and urging his claims to preferment. In a con- 
versation with my father, Lieut. Allen incidentally 
touched upon this subject, which elicited a reply 
which, while it excited his astonishment, inspired ad- 
miration for the disinterested patriotism that prompt- 
ed it. " It was not," said he, " for the honor or 
emolument of office that I abandoned home and all 
its endearments, for the perils and dangers of the tent- 
ed field. Higher and holier motives impelled me to 
action. Young as I am, I have not been an inatten- 
6* 



6^ LIFE OP 

tive observer of passing events. I have watched 
with a jealous eye the progressive inroads upon our 
rights by the motfier country — her wanton butchery 
of our citizens, and her unhallowed attempts to fix 
upon us a despotism more cruel, more iron-handed 
than that which prevails from the chill, dreary re- 
gions of Siberia to the borders of the Mediterranean, 
I have seen her mercenary troops sent hither to riv- 
it our chains, and bind us the firmer to this car of 
despotism — a soldiery whose every tread has been 
marked by desolation, rapine and death — polluting 
even the sanctuary of the dead. I have seen them 
burning our towns, plundering our citizens, and com- 
mitting other acts, in comparison with which even 
Cannibal attrocities would whiten into virtues. I 
have seen all this, ar*; with the oath of Hannibal to 
Hamilcar, have "sworn eternal hatred to these Ro- 
mans." I embarked in this holy cause as a volun- 
teer, but it is my intention, when a proper opportu- 
nity offers, to enlist into the Continental service, — 
and, believing that " the post of honor is a private 
station," I shall pertinaciously adhere to that position. 
Your kind offers to aid in my promotion, are duly 
appreciated, for which you will please accept my 
thanks. If it should be my good fortune again to do 
battle by your side, the recollection of the unmerit- 
ed favors I have received at your hands will operate 
as a new incentive to action, and inspire new confi- 
dence and courage. Although we may, perhaps, 
have a short respite from our toils and dangers, yet 



JOSHtTA SLOCITM. (57 

in all human probability, we shall soon again be sum- 
moned to the field of battle— and, if I am among the 
living, that summons will receive from me a ready 
response. Yes, while this heart continues to beat, 
its every pulsation shall be for Liberty, and its last 
throb for God and CorNTRY.'^ 

Lieut. Allen being ordered from the station on bu- 
siness, after a hearty interchange of good feeling 
and a cordial shake of the hand, the parties separa- 
ted ; not, however, until the Lieutenant had assured 
his friend that he should keep him advised of his 
movements, and enjoining upon him, in the event of 
his wanting pecuniary or other assistance, to apprise 
him of it. Thus parted two congenial spirits ; but 
it will be seen that the fortunes of war again brought 
them into close proximity, and bound them together 
by firmer and more endearing associations. 

We will now turn our attention to the progress of 
the campaign. As military operations had commen- 
ced, it became necessary to designate a proper per- 
son as Commander in Chief of our forces. The se- 
cond Continental Congress being in session at Phil- 
adelphia, and this important duty devolving upon it, 
George Washington, a member of that body from 
Virginia, was unanimously selected as the man most 
eminently qualified to fill that high station, and to 
lead on our army to glory and victory. Whep this 
heart-cheering intelligence reached Cambridge, my 
father informed me that one long, loud and joyful 
acclamation rent the skies — each successive post 



68 lifE Of 

catching the sound, till it was wafted through the en» 
tire line of the army, operating upon it like a shock 
of electricity upon a morbid system. If, continues he, 
the mere announcement of his appointment could 
create so much enthusiasm and awaken such joyous 
sensations through our ranks, what must have been 
the feelings inspired when, on the 2d of July, fifteen 
days from the date of his commission, Washington, 
in company with Gen. Lee, arrived at Head Quar- 
ters in Cambridge— when, for the first time, we were 
permitted to see, face to face, the great man who, 
under God, was destined to achieve the Indepen- 
dence of his country, and to lay broad and deep the 
foundation of this stupendous republic ? For myself 
I shall not attempt to describe it — language would 
fail in the attempt. 

The Commander in Chief, immediately on his ar- 
rival among us, commenced organizing the army, 
consisting of about 14,000 men, which he found in a 
sad condition, undisciplined, poorly armed and equip- 
ped, and to some extent lacking subordination. But 
he soon brought order out of confusion — introduced 
a stricter discipline, and gave a new character to 
the army. 

While Washington was thus employed, an expedi* 
tion was planned against the Canadas. One thou- 
sand men, under command of Gens. Schuyler and 
Montgomery had already moved on this expedition, 
by way of St. Johns, and Gen. Washington had or- 
dered Col. Arnold, with one thousand more, from 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 69 

Cambridge, by the way of Kennebeck river, to co- 
operate with him at Quebec. With this detachment 
it was my intention to have embarked, but was pre- 
vented, perhaps fortunately, from carrying out my 
design, by the receipt of the following letter from 
Lieut. Allen, which was placed in my hands while 
on my way to enrol myself: — 

Recruiting Station, Worcesterj ) 
July 20th, 1775. \ 

DearSlocum — Although, from the determined stand 
you took at the last interview I had v\^ith you, on the 
subject of adva/icement in the army, I may have but 
little hope of changing your views in regard to it, yet 
I have ventured once more to press the subject to 
your consideration, and to urge you to reconsider 
and revoke, what I call, your hastily formed resolu- 
tion. There are various and weighty reasons 
which conspire in my mind to induce you to adopt 
these suggestions ; and I sincerely hope that mature 
reflection, if it has not already wrought a change, 
will ultimately effect it. In thus urging upon you a 
departure from the course you have marked out for 
yourself, be assured, my friend, lam actuated by the 
kindest promptings of the heart. Determined as you 
are, to stand by your country through this her great 
struggle for Liberty, can your talents and known 
courage so successfully, or to so great a degree, ad- 
vance the cause of that country in the subordinate 
station you propose to move in, as in one more ele- 



70 LIFE OP 

vated, more commanding, and where the influence of 
your example will have a more salutary effect ? I 
think not ; and I indulge the hope that you will yet 
view the subject in the same light as myself. Since 
last I saw you I have conversed with several officers 
on the subject of your promotion, who inform me 
that your name has been favorably spoken of at Head 
Quarters ; they say there is not a doubt of your re- 
ceiving a commission if you will accept of one. Re- 
flect well on this subject, and if, after reflection, your 
mind remains unchanged, then I have one question 
to ask you— -Will you join my company ? Having 
received a captain's commission, and ordered to re- 
cruit at this place, nothing would give me more pleas- 
ure than to have you by my side, except a compli- 
ance with the desire intimated above. Write me or 
pay me a visit immediately. I have much to say to 
you. In great haste, 

Affectionately yours, 

J, Allen, 

Joshua Slocum, Cambridge^ 

This letter also contained a friendly oflTering, which 
came very opportunely, as my finances were in a 
low state. I was not long in coming to a decision 
in this matter. It was the very opportunity I had 
sought for— so, abandoning my Canadian expedition, 
as soon as the proper arrangements could be made 
I was on my way to his quarters. 



JOSHUA SL0CU3I. 71 

Fortunate, indeed, was it for me, as before remar- 
ked, that I received the above letter as I did, for Col. 
Arnold's expedition proved an entire failure, and was 
attended with more hardship and suffering than any 
enterprize undertaken during the war. In ascend- 
ing the Kennebeck, his troops had to encounter a 
strong and impetuous current, and were often oblig- 
ed to hall their boats up rapids and over dangerous 
and difficult falls. No less dangerous or difficult wag 
their march through an unexplored country of three 
hundred miles. In their route ihey had to encoun- 
ter swamps and woods, mountains and precipices. 
Superadded to this, their provisions failed, and to sus- 
tain life they were obliged to eat their dogs, cartouch- 
boxes and shoes. When distant an hundred miles 
from any human habitation, they divided their then 
remaining provisions, amounting to about four pints 
of flour to a man, and at thirty miles distant they had 
baked and eaten the last morsel. It was not till af- 
ter thirty days of toil and privation that they reach- 
the habitations of men. 

But to return. When I reached Worcester, I 
found Capt. Allen anxiously awaiting my arrival. 
Our meeting was cordial, and after the customary 
■interchange of civilities, the all-absorbing business of 
the day was brought upon the tapis. As I expected, 
he went into a long train of reasoning to convince 
me of the folly, as he termed it, of the position I had 
taken — recapitulated all he had said in his letter — 
spake in flattering terms of my qualifications, (over- 



72 LIFE OP 

rating them I assured him,)--and represented in glo\v» 
ing colors the advantages that would accrue to mo 
from heeding his advice. But all his talk fell profit- 
less upon the ear as water upon a seive. He found 
me, as he termed it, incorrigible ; and finally, pre- 
senting his muster-roll, he enquired in a tone 
which showed the intensity of his feeling, if I would 
place my name upon it, and thus, in a measure, inden- 
tify my fortunes with his in the great struggle before 
us. A willing mind gave a quick assent, and a ready 
hand promptly responded to its bidding. My signa- 
ture was affixed to it, and in my sixteenth year 1 be- 
came a soldier in the continental army. Such was 
the spirit that was aroused, that recruits poured in 
from every quarter and enrolled themselves in the 
glorious cause. The duties of the recruiting station 
being arduous, the Captain desired me to officiate as 
clerk, in which capacity I continued to serve till we 
were ordered to Head-Quarters, which we reached 
with 68 recruits, (several squads having been pre- 
viously despatched) on the 24th of September. The 
army had now became augmented by regulars and 
militia to about 15,000 — the main body of which was 
posted at Cambridge, under the immediate guardi- 
anship of the Commander in Chief. The right rest- 
ed on Roxbury under Gen. Ward, and the left was 
posted on Prospect Hill, under Gen. Lee. Some 
3000 men filled the interstices, under the command 
of Gen. Putnam. Thus posted, we held a control^ 
ling power, which left the enemy in a stat« of siege. 



JOSlllTA SLOCUM. 73 

This position we maintained through the winter, 
although exposed to imminent danger in the event 
of an attack of the enemy, which was daily expected. 
The wants of the army, too, were great and truly 
embarrassing' — especially were we lacking in artimu* 
nition, bayonets, camp equipage, engineers, &c. But 
the same zeal that had warmed us into action con- 
tinued to animate and inspire us, and we were ena- 
bled to surmount all these difficulties* Had the en- 
emy been aware of our vulnerable and assailable 
points, our position would have been a very unpleas* 
ant one, as sure defeat would have followed. 

At the urgent solicitation of Gen. Washington, 
Congress authorized the raising of additional troops, 
and by the fourth of March our army, numbering 
near 15,000, was increased to about 20,000. Thus 
encouraged, the commander in chief commenced op* 
erations in good earnest. Early in the spring of '76 
he contemplated the expulsion of the British from 
Boston, by direct assault, but a council of war hav- 
ing been assembled, it was decided to take posses- 
sion of and fortify Dorchester Heights, thus com- 
manding Boston harbor and the British shipping. 
Accordingly on the night of the 4th of March, the 
detachment at Roxbury, amounting to about 2,000 
men, was ordered to take possession of these heights, 
which was accomplished unobserved by the enemy. 
Well supplied with entrenching tools, and all the ne- 
cessary appliances, we betook ourselves to the work 
with so much zeal and activity, that before morning 



74 LIFE or 

we had constructed fortifications which completely 
sheltered and secured us from the guns of the ene- 
my, and left them entirely at our mercy. The as- 
tonishment of the British on the morning of the 5th 
can be better imagined than described. The Eng- 
lish admiral saw the imminent danger of his fleet, and 
Gen. Howe the danger of his army. Thus situated, 
he sent a flag of truce to the American head quar- 
ters, informing Gen. Washington of his intention to 
evacuate Boston — which they did on the night of the 
16th of March, taking with them about 1500 tories, 
with their families. Scarce had the rear guard of 
the British embarked on board their fleet, when we, 
with Gen. Washington at our head, marched in tri- 
umph into the town. Great, indeed, was the rejoic- 
ing of the Bostonians at our triumphant entry. For 
sixteen months they had suffered every thing at the 
hands of a brutal soldiery. With sacrilegious tread 
the houses of public worship had been invaded — the 
pews and benches demolished and consumed for fu- 
el — stores forcibly entered and plundered of goods 
to clothe their troops — dwellings pillaged to satisfy 
their hunger, and in short, every excess indulged in 
that a cruel and wanton enemy could commit. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Removal of Head Quarters to New York — Declara^ 
Hon of Independence — Battle on Long Island — 
Defeat of the Americans — ^Retreat from Long IsU 
and — Evacuation of New York, <^c, ^c* 

Soon after the evacuation of Boston by the Brit- 
ish, it became apparent to Washington that it would 
be a favorite object with them to take possession of 
New York. He therefore determined to make that 
his head quarters, and accordingly in July he remov- 
ed thither with the principal part of the army. 

In the mean time the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence had been drawn up and signed, and was re- 
ceived by the people throughout the country with 
joyful acclamations. In New York especially, it 
was an occasion of unbounded rejoicing. Public 
processions were made, bells rung, cannons fired, 
the ensigns of royalty demolished, and every de- 
monstration of patriotic feeling manifested. The 
huge statue of George III. which stood on the pub- 
lic square, was surrounded by our company — a long 
rope attached to his neck, and, amid loud huzzas, 
it was razed to the ground, and the lead of which it 
7* 



78 LIPB OF 

was composed, converted into bullets* To me was 
assigned the pleasing duty of affixing the rope to this 
representative of royalty. How much would this 
pleasure have been enhanced, and what untold bles- 
sings would have accrued to suffering humanity, had 
the king in person been present to receive the noose 
around his royal throttle I 

The command of the British forces destined to op- 
erate against New York, was given to Admiral Lord 
Howe and his brother Sir William. On the 28th of 
June, Gen. Howe arrived at Sandy Hook, near New 
York, with his armament from Halifax, where he 
was joined by his l;)rother on the 12th of July, with 
another armament — their combined forces amount- 
ing to about twenty-four thousand men. Our army 
numbered about seventeen thousand, a part of which 
force was encamped at Brooklyn, Long Island — the 
regiment to which I was attached being stationed at 
that place. 

On the 2d of August, the enemy landed their en- 
tire force near the Narrows, nine miles from the city. 
A battle being now inevitable, preparations were 
made to meet them manfully. On this occasion 
Gen. Washington issued the following general or- 
der which was read through the lines : — 

" The enemy have now landed upon Long Island 
— ^the hour is fast approaching in which the honor 
and success of this army, and the safety of our bleed- 
ing country depend. Remember, officers and sol- 



JOSHUA SLOCtTM* *t^ 

diers, that you are freemen, fighting for the blessings 
of Hberty 5 that slavery will be your portion, and 
that of your posterity, if you do not acquit your- 
selves like men. Remember how your courage has 
been despised and traduced by your cruel invaders, 
though they have found by dear experience at Bos- 
ton, Charlestown, and other places, what a few men 
can do in their own land, and in the best of causes, 
against hirelings and mercenaries. Be cool, be de- 
termined. Do not fire at a distance, but wait for or- 
ders from your officers.'* 

Knowing the vast disparity of our forces, (the en- 
emy having nearly double our number,) I confess I 
went into this engagement with many fearful fore- 
bodings. But the justice of the cause, and the bold 
and inspiring language of our officers, enabled me to 
meet the crisis with firmness. It soon came. On 
the 27th of August, our army at Brooklyn, under 
Brigadier Gen. Sullivan, was attacked by the Brit- 
ish under Sir Henry Clinton and Lord Cornwallis, 
and after a severe engagement, we were routed and 
repulsed at every point, with the loss of upwards of 
one thousand men. Our company suffered severely 
in this engagement, being in the hottest of the ac- 
tion ; our loss was ten killed and seven wounded. 
Capt. Allen received a slight wound in the hand, and 
had part of his epaulet shot away. The English loss 
was comparatively small in the engagement, not ex- 
ceeding four hundred. 



<80 LIFE OP 

After this severe defeat, a council of officers was 
convened, and Gen. Washington, perceiving the oc- 
cupation of Long Island impracticable, ordered are- 
treat. Accordingly on the night of the 29th this op- 
eration was commenced, and it would seem as if the 
hand of heaven was especially interposed in our be- 
half on this occasion. Our army, consisting of about 
nine thousand men, with their artillery, tents, bag- 
gage, &:c., was transported to New York, over a 
difficult ferry, a mile in width, and this, too, while a 
powerful enemy, flushed with victory, lay encamped 
within six hundred yards of us, and were wholly un- 
apprehensive of our movements! Never was a re- 
treat conducted with more prudence and discretion, 
and never was a wily enemy more thunder-struck 
and amazed than were the British, when, on the 
morning of the 30th, they discovered we had aban- 
doned our camp during the night, and made safe our 
retreat. As the rising sun dispelled the dense fog 
which had enveloped and screened us from the ob- 
servation of the enemy, they now discovered the 
rear guard of our army safely embarked, and too far 
advanced to be reached by their shot. Our regi- 
ment was the last to leave the encampment, and our 
company among the last that embarked on board the 
boats. The same boat that conveyed us across the 
ferry, bore also the immortal Washington and his 
suite. Notwithstanding the urgent and repeated im- 
portunities of his staff and other officers, he lingered 
upon the shore till the last remnant of his army had 



. JOSHUA SLOCUM. 81 

embarked, and then with majestic tread, he entered 
the boat. He, however, evidently felt depressed, 
and the inward workings of his mind were clearly 
shadowed forth in his rueful countenance. Two of 
his favorite generals, (Stirling and Woodhull,) had 
fallen into the hands of the enemy, and hundreds of 
his best troops had been killed and wounded in the 
engagement. The calm serenity which usually sat 
upon his countenance, seemed on this occasion to 
have deserted it, and a deep gloom came over him 
as he conversed with his brother officers on the sub- 
ject, all of whom seemed to partake of the same feel- 
ing at the eventful, the alarming crisis before them. 

It being evident that we could not maintain our 
position in New York, we abandoned it on the 14th 
of September, when the British immediately took 
possession of it. Our army, now greatly reduced 
by desertion, sickness and defection, occupied for a 
short time the heights of Harlem, where on the 16th 
a skirmish ensued, when our troops charged the en- 
emy with great intrepidity, and gained a decided ad- 
vantage over them. In this skirmish Capt. Allen re- 
ceived a slight wound in the arm, and my cap was 
perforated with a bullet. Col. Knowlton and Major 
Leitch both fell in this engagement, while bravely 
fighting at the head of their troops. The loss of the 
Americans in this skirmish in killed and wounded 
was about fifty— that of the enemy was more than 
double that number. 

Deeming our position no longer tenable, the com- 



82 LIFE OP 

mander in chief pushed on his forces to White Plains, 
where on the 28th of October, we were attacked by 
the British and Hessians. A sharp rencounter ensu- 
ed, and some three hundred fell on both sides. 
Here, to my certain knowledge, my trusty rifle per- 
formed its duty to a charm. Brought into immedi- 
ate contact, as was our regiment, with De Hester*s 
mercenary Hessian troops, no less than ten of them, 
in the brief period in which we were engaged, felt 
the effect of its deadly and unerring aim — among the 
number an officer who figured conspicuously in their 
ranks. I had conceived an utter detestation and ab- 
horrence for these wretched hirelings, who, for filthy 
lucre would sell their souls, and who had poured in 
upon us in swarms, to fight the battles of another 
country, and aid in our subjugation ; and when we 
were drawn up in battle array, and could scan the 
faces of the accursed miscreants, a strange sensation 
came over me — an unwonted spirit infused itself in- 
to my whole system, and I could scarce await the 
order which, sure I was, would send at least one of 
them to perdition. Our position was such that the 
wind, which was somewhat high, cleared the smoke 
at every successive discharge, and enabled us to 
talce deliberate aim. How my heart bounded, as at 
each discharge of my rifle a stalwart Hessian fell ! 
In this engagement I escaped without a scratch, and 
but two of our company were wounded, and those 
slightly. On this occasion I received a high enco- 
mium from the Colonel of the regiment, and my old 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 88 

friend, Capf. Allen, as usual, spoke of my bearing 
with marked approbation. 

The British receiving a strong reinforcement, un- 
der Lord Percy, it was deemed unsafe longer to re- 
tain our position here, and accordingly on the night 
of the 30th October, Washington pushed on his for- 
ces to New Castle, about five miles from White 
Plains. Leaving about 7000 men, under command 
of Gen. Lee, the commander in chief crossed the 
North river, and posted himself in the neighborhood 
of Fort Lee ; but soon after moved on to Newark. 
Here his forces were endangered, being in too close 
proximity to the enemy, who had just taken two of 
our forts, (Washington and Lee,) with near 3000 
men. Newark was, therefore, abandoned, and our 
retreat continued to Brunswick, from Brunswick to 
Princeton, from Princeton to Trenton, and from 
thence to the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware. 
Our retreat through these towns was hurried and 
tiresome in the extreme, tearing down in our rapid 
course, the bridges we had passed, falling trees, and 
in other ways obstructing the roads. But so hot was 
the pursuit, that the van of the enemy's army trod 
close upon the heels of our rear, and would com- 
mence rebuilding the bridges we had demolished, 
within gun-shot of us. 

These were really trying times. At no period 
since the breaking out of hostilities, had the affairs of 
the colonists worn so gloomy an aspect. The peri- 
od for which many of the militia had enlisted, wag 



84 LIFE OF 

about expiring, and, discouraged, disheartened, and 
despairing, they dennanded a discharge, and abandon- 
ed the ranks for their homes. A deep and settled 
gloom came over all. Even the regular troops be- 
gan to exhibit a spirit of insubordination, and were 
deserting in vast numbers. Ten of our company de- 
serted in one squad, but were brought back, severe- 
ly reprimanded, and assured that a repetition of the 
offence would be visited with severe chastisement. 
These desertions, and the great losses which had 
preceded them, reduced our army to about four 
thousand men- — and even this remnant were poorly 
supplied with provisions, intrenching tools and tents 
to shelter them from the inclemency of the weather. 
Nor was this all. We were quartered in a section 
of country where a zeal for the good cause was wo- 
fully deficient- — a part of whose inhabitants sustain- 
ed an equivocal character, or were decidedly friend- 
ly to the mother country — some of their leading 
men, those who had heretofore been decidedly 
friendly to the cause of liberty, having sent in their 
adhesion to the enemy. But the master mind of 
Washington did not cower under all these complica- 
ted difficulties. The exigencies of the times inspir- 
ed new courage and renewed exertions, and he went 
forward nothing doubting or despairing of achieving 
the liberties of the country. 

At this eventful crisis he fortunately received re- 
inforcements of regular troops and militia, which in- 
creased his army to about seven thousand effective 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 85 

men. In January, however, there would be a great 
reduction of this force by the expiration of the term 
of the mihlia of some of the States. Washington de- 
termining lo avail himself of their services while yet 
they were under his command, formed the bold de- 
sign of recrossing the Delaware and attacking the 
Hessians, then encamped at Trenton. I never shall 
forget the feeling that came over me, when Captain 
Allen privately communicated to me the contempla- 
ted expedition. My hand involuntarily seized the 
faithful rifle — a new flint was carefully substituted for 
the old — the barrel thoroughly cleansed, and a plenti- 
ful supply of the " leaden messenger" placed in the 
cartouch-box. The reflection that I was soon to 
have another opportunity of meeting the Hessians in 
the field, fairly electrified me, and I felt as though I 
could go into the contest as a mere pastime. So anx- 
ious was I for the rencounter, that the few hours that 
intervened before the order was given for embarking 
seemed like so many weeks to me. 

The 25th of December was the time fixed to car» 
ry this bold enterprize into effect. We arrived at 
the banks of the Delaware just at night-fall, in the 
expectation of crossing our troops before midnight. 
But the river being obstructed with floating ice, and 
the weather so intensely cold, we did not eflect our 
landing until near four o'clock in the morning. We 
then made a forced march towards Trenton, but a 
severe snow storm setting in, accompanied with rain, 
hail, sleet, and a dense fog, we did not reach there 
8 



86 LIFE OV 

until about eight o'clock. A more cold, gloomy, 
cheerless and disheartening night and morning, can 
scarce be imagined. It seemed as though the very 
elements had conspired against us, and had I indul- 
ged in augury, I should have ventured the predic- 
tion that a fatal issue awaited our expedition. But 
the Almighty overrules eveiy thing for good — for 
to these causes, in a great measure, may be attribn- 
uted the fact, that at the late hour of 8 o'clock in the 
morning, the enemy were taken by surprize, not hav- 
ing the least intimation of our approach. The read- 
er will pardon me when I say, that I was somewhat 
disappointed at the result of this expedition — not at 
its successful issue, but that I had not an opportuni- 
ty of again testing the superior excellence of my ri- 
fle. Deem me not blood-thirsty or revengeful, (as 
this remark might render me obnoxious to the im- 
putation,) for such feelings do not enter into my com- 
position. But as remarked in another place, I had 
conceived an abhorrence for these mercinaries that 
I could not divest myself of — an operation of the 
mind which I could not control. 

The result of this expedition was the capture of 
an entire regiment of Hessians, amounting to about 
one thousand men, with scarce the loss of a man on 
our part. In the hurry of disembarking, two men 
were lost overboard and drowned — one of them be- 
longing to our company. He was a brave soldier 
and much beloved by his mess. 

Our army was now securely posted at Trenton ;■ 



JOSHTIA SLOCUM. BT 

but the commander in chief determining to follow up 
his advantages, proceeded to Princeton, where we 
encountered a party of British, and after a sharp 
conflict, victory perched upon our banners. The 
enemy lost about one hundred killed, and the remain- 
der of their force, (amounting to about three hun- 
dred,) were made prisoners. Our loss was about 
fifty killed and twenty-five wounded. Among the 
killed was the brave General Mercer, and a number 
of other valuable officers ; among those dangerously 
wounded, was the brave, the chivalrous, the accom- 
plished Allen ! — he whose fortunes I had follow- 
ed thus far through the campaign, and whose 
toils and privations and dangers I had shared. In 
the early part of the engagement he received a slight 
wound, but continued to fight on, cheering and en- 
couraging his men ; another wound nearly disabled 
his sword arm — still he remained firm as cloudy 
Atlas, spurring us on the fierce encounter. Fate 
saw and marked him as a victim I Another ball 
pierced his body ! and yet another ! — still he main- 
tained the contest till failing nature obliged him to 
abandon the field. He now despatched his Lieuten- 
ant to inform me of his situation, and to assist in con- 
veying him to his quarters. Who can speak the bit- 
ter anguish I experienced, when I first beheld him, 
pale, weak, and bleeding at every wound ! As I ap- 
proached him, he extended his trembling hand to 
me, and exclaimed — " Ah I friend Slocum, I fear all 
is over with me — I already feel the hand of death 



88 LIFE OF 

upon me. I shall need your assistance in this trying 
crisis. You have been to me, thus far, as my right 
hand to its fellow. Do not desert me now." His 
weakness prevented further utterance. But his bear- 
ing was still noble and soldierly, and his frank and 
clear eye had lost little of its lustre. For myself, I 
could not reply. I essayed to the task, but the 
tongue refused its office. 

We conveyed him to his quarters, where surgeons 
were in attendance to dress his wounds, and where 
every attention and kindness were extended to him 
that humanity could suggest. It is needless to say 
that I was always by his side, ministering to all his 
wants, imparting hope and consolation, and not un- 
frequently expressing an opinion that his wounds 
would not prove mortal. But he was satisfied that 
the tide of life was fast ebbing — that the last sands 
of his glass were nearly run. And when, on the suc- 
ceeding morning, his surgeons informed him that his 
case was hopeless, the announcement was received 
with calm resignation. Buoyed up and sustained by 
that holy religion of which he had long been a pro- 
fessor, and which through life he had exemplified by 
a well ordered walk and conversation — and without 
which no man can die happy — he had no fears of the 
grim tyrant. Death. He wished, however, to live 
for his country — he wished to live to see that coun- 
try disenthralled, happy and free. But Providence 
decreed otherwise, and he cheerfully acquiesced ia 
the fiat. 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 8% 

Satisfied that the hour of dissolution was near at 
hand, he made the necessary disposition of his tem- 
poral affairs — assigned to me the duty of fulfilling 
his intentions^ — and, commending himself to his God, 
he sank into a sweet sleep. A part of the time he 
appeared a little delirious ; and I noticed, while 
watching over him, that there was something yet on 
his mind of which he wished to unburthen it. An 
occasional ejaculation which now and then escaped 
him during his slumber, confirmed me in this belief. 
On awaking, he beckoned me to his side and, in an 
almost inaudible voice, informed me that he was affi- 
anced to a young lady in W— — . He gave me 
her address— spoke of her in the highest terms of ad- 
miration, and required of me an assurance that I 
would communicate to her his dying words, which 
were — '^' that he was trite in death." His mind 
being thus relieved of its burthen, he again closed his 
eyes in sleep — but alas ! it was the sleep of death I 

Thus died as devout a Christian, as bold a Soldier, 
as ripe a Scholar, and as " stout a gentleman" as the 
army of Washington could boast of, of his grade. I 
shall not attempt his eulogy ; for to depict his char- 
acter in its true colors, encomium would faulter for 
want of expression. Suffice it to say, that his high 
moral pre-eminence — his pure and lofty aspirations 
— his rich and generous feelings — his bold and noble 
bearing — his indomitable courage in battle, and his 
eminent Christian virtues, endeared him to all who 
had the pleasure of his acquaintance. In view of all 
8* 



do uf^ of 

his noble qualities, I cannot forbear the exclamaf iomfy 

*' Death, cruel spoiler ! thou hast done thy utmost !" 

The following day, the remains of the lamented 
Allen were interred, with funeral honors — nearly 
all the officers in the field being present. Allen stood 
high among his brother officers, as the profound 
grief they manifested on this occasion abundantly 
testified. 

" Soft rest his ashes, 'till the God of Battles 
Calls him io Vict'ry." 

Scarce had the last spade of earth fallen upon the 
grave of my departed friend, ere I sat me down, 
with an aching heart, to fulfil his parting injunction 
— that of informing his betrothed, by letter, of his 
melancholy demise* Never did I perform a more 
heart-rending duty. The falling tear moistened the 
sheet as I wrote.* 

Our army, soon after the cheering victories which 
have just been described, went into winter quarters 
at Morristown, on the 6th of January, 1777, where 

*In looking over the numerous letters and docilments 
left by my deceased father, my eye has luckily fallen up- 
on a copy of the identical letter referred to above. The 
chirography is very plain, but in the antiquated style of 
that day, and though the hand of time has somewhat de- 
faced it, still it is quite legible. Presuming the reader 
might be gratified with the perusal of a revolutionary rel-' 



ifOSHUA SLOCUii. dt 

the small pox making its appearance among the 
troops, the principal part of the army were inocula* 
ted. Having been previously vaccinated for this 
loathsome disease, I v^'as screened from its attack, 
and was thus enabled to attend to the sick around 
me ; a duty which I cheerfully performed* The dis* 

ic which has been preserved with so much care through 
a long series of years^ I have made a transcript of it, 
which is here subjoined. — [Compiler* 

Cctmpi Princeton, N. J, 
Dec. 29, 1776. 

Miss Julia H - ey^ 



Madam — The sad emblem of mourning affixed to 
this communication, ere yet your trembling hand had 
broken itj must have prepared you for unwelcome intel- 
ligence. Unwelcome, heart-rending intelligence, indeed, 
does it bear to you ; and while performing the melan* 
choly duty devolved upon me, allow me to mingle my 
tears of grief with yours, and to sympathize with you in 
in your deep affliction. I approach the task with an ach* 
ing heart, bat it is a duty I must perform* Know, then, 
that him in whom all your earthly affections were cen- 
tered — the noble, the high-minded, the gallant Allen, 
is no more ! He expired at half-past four yesterday af- 
ternoon, from wounds received in battle at this place, the 
day previous. In this engagement his cool intrepidity 
and dauntless courage were conspicuously displayed. 
Although pierced with many wounds, he continued to do 
battle until he fell from loss of blood and exhaustion. He 



9fi LIFE OP 

ease, however, was of a very mild type ; so much so, 
that had the enemy made an attack, we should have 
had efficient men enough to have met them. It soon 
disappeared under proper treatment, but few falling 
victims to it. Both armies were now in winter quar- 



survived his wounds about twenty-four hours, during 
which time I was constantly by his side, attending to all 
his necessities. Convinced that he could not survive his 
wounds, he made the necessary disposition of his wordly 
affairs- — confided to me the relation in which he stood to 
you, and imposed upon me the painful task I am now 
performing, of acquainting you with his last moments. 
Never shall I forget, madam, the calm serenity which set- 
tled on his manly countenance, as he contemplated his 
approaching dissolution. His firmness never for a mo- 
ment forsook him. That religion of which he had long 
been a professor and an ornanirjnt, now cams to his aid, 
mid sustained and upheld him in his dying moments. It 
was only when his thoughts reverted to you, that a sad- 
ness came over him ; and then a sigh would escape 
him, mingled with a regret that that you could not be 
present to receive a renewed assurance of his attachment, 
and witness his fidelity in death. Whether sleeping or 
waking, his thoughts seemed turned on you ; and once 
or twice in his slumbers, the name of Julia ! audibly es. 
caped his lips. In you seemed centred all that endeared 
him to earth. For you and his country he wished to 
live. But Death, " who loves a shining mark," selected 
him for his victim, and cut him down in the prime of his 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 93 

lersf, and inactive. For myself, I confess that this 
temporary relaxation from duty was exceedingly 
desirable, as I had become greatly debilitated by 
excessive fatigue in the battle-field, and in attendance 
upon the sick and wounded. 

mandhood, and in the midst of his usefulness. But be 
fell in a glorious cause, — 

" And when he called to min^ his deeds 
Done for his country in the embattled field, 
He thought of that good cause for which he died. 
And it was joy in death." 

I could add much more on this melancholy subject, but 
the duties of the camp summon me to my post, and I 
must close. As soon as my term of service expires, I 
shall, before re-enlisting, visit your place, and will then 
personally communicate to you many other interesting 
particulars connected with this sad bereavement. In 
the mean time, madam, accept the assurances of my high 
consideration and regard. 

Your friend in affliction, 

Joshua Slocum. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Opening of the Campaign of 1111 — Re-enlistment — 
Battles of Brandywine and Germantown — Defeat 
of the Americans J <^c. ^-c. 

Having already reached the limits prescribed 
for this work, the compiler is reluctantly compelled 
to curtail, condense, and in many instances, entirely 
omit, much of the interesting matter contained in 
his father's manuscripts — so that what should prop- 
erly be spread over at least four extended chapters, 
is necessarily compressed into one. This is particu- 
larly regretted, as the lengthy details he has given 
of the part he personally took in many of the battles 
we shall merely have room to glance at, and in which 
he figured conspicuously, would much interest the 
reader. There is also much anecdote, and many 
pleasing reminiscences scattered through his papers, 
which we shall be compelled entirely to omit. Should 
this work, however, meet with a favorable reception 
at the hands of the public, the compiler promises, in 
a subsequent edition, greatly to improve it, and to 
render it more deserving of patronag^. 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 95 

So much by way of apology. We will now pro- 
ceed to the completion of the narrative, begging the 
reader to pardon the hurried manner in which an in- 
teresting portion of it is passed over. 

At the opening of the campaign of 1777, our ar- 
my amounted to only about 7000 men ; although 
Congress had offered great inducements in lands and 
increased wages, for recruits. But little was effect- 
ed by either army through the summer months, al- 
though marchings and countermarchings were kept 
up, without any settled or definite plan of operation. 
In July, the term of two years, the period of my en- 
listment, expired. But having sworn to stand by 
my country through her great struggle for liberty, 
I could not, in this, her hour of gloom and despon- 
dency, desert her. Previous to re-enlisting, howev- 
er, I determined to fulfil the dying request of my 
friend, Captain Allen — that of personally communi- 
cating with the young lady to whom he was effiian- 
ced, and of informing her more fully, of his last mo- 
ments. I therefore, made a hasty visit to W , 

and was soon in the presence of Miss H****y. 
She was a splendid woman — well educated, and in 
every respect worthy of the gallant soldier to whom 
she had plighted her vows. I found her, however, 
in deep despondency, and shrouded in the habili- 
ments of mourning. Our meeting, as might well be 
expected, was an affecting one indeed. I spent sev- 
eral days at the hospitable mansion of her father, 
the greater part of the time in her society. She ask- 



56 LIFE OP 

ed me a thousand questions in relation to Captain 
Allen, and his last moments, and my replies seemed 
to impart comfort and consolation to her troubled bo- 
som. My health had become much improved by 
my brief sojourn in the country, and when I intima- 
ted to her my intention of departing, she pressed me 
to stay still longer, as she had much more to say 
to me. But when I spoke of my bleeding coun- 
try, and the necessity of my being at my post, a 
beam of celestial brightness irradiated her counte- 
nance, and seizing my hand, she exclaimed, — " Go, 
gallant youth ! Fight the battles of your country — 
achieve its Liberties — and avenge the death of my 
beloved James 1" Placing in her hand a ring worn 
by Captam Allen on the day of the battle and a lock 
of his hair, which he had requested me to present 
to her as a memento, I bade her farewell, and with 
a heavy heart, retraced my steps to the scene of 
danger — the last words she had uttered still ringing 
in mine ear. 

I reached head quarters about the first of Septem- 
ber ; re-united myself to the army of Washington, 
and, with renewed health and strength, and stronger 
incentives to action, entered upon a new campaign. 

The British army, under Gen. How, consisting of 
about sixteen thousand men, had left New Jersey, 
and sailed for the Chesapeake. On the 14th of Au- 
gust, they landed at the head of Elk river, Maryland, 
with the evident intention of occupying Philadelphia. 
Gen. Washington, divining their object, immediately 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 97 

put his army in motion for that place, to prevent, if 
possible, its falling into their hands. On the 11th of 
September the two armies came in contact at Bran- 
dywine, when a sanguinary engagement ensued, 
which continued, with little intermission, through the 
day. There was much hard fighting, and for a long 
time the issue was doubtful, but the superior force of 
the enemy finally compelled us to abandon the field. 
This was the hardest day's work that I had been cal- 
led upon to perform since joining the army. In the 
course of the day I received two wounds — one in 
the arm, and another near the ankle, but they were 
of so slight a character, that I was enabled to remain 
at my post through the entire battle. I however, 
subsequently experienced some inconvenience from 
these wounds. Our estimated loss in this day's bat- 
tle, was about three hundred killed and six hundred 
wounded. The enemy's loss was not far from one 
hundred killed and four hundred wounded. The 
enemy made prisoners of about three hundred and 
fifty of our men, but they were mostly the wounded. 
Gen. Lafayette, who had greatly distinguished him- 
self in the engagement, was wounded in the leg. 

Deeming the battle of Brandywine as indecisive, 
Washington, by the advice of Congress, recrossed 
the Schuylkill on the 16th September, and encoun- 
tered the enemy at Goshen. A violent rain storm 
setting in, our powder became wet, and after a short 
skirmish, in which my rifle refused to perform its 
duty, we retired from the field. 
9 



518 . LIFE OF 

There being several forts on the Delaware whicFi 
greatly annoyed the enemy, and rendered the navi- 
gation of the river extremely hazardous, Gen. Howe's 
attention was directed to their reduction, an-d a part of 
his army was drawn off for this purpose. Their 
force thus reduced. Gen. Washington was induced 
to risk an attack upon their remaining force at Ger- 
mantown — w-hich attack was made on the 4th of 
October, and resulted in our complete discomfiture — 
the enemy fighting like demons with justified spirits. 
In no previous engagement in which 1 i>ad participa- 
ted, had the enemy presented so bold a front — and 
in no instance had their bullets whistled around me 
with such deadly effect. On my right and left they 
told a dreadful story ; but I escaped unharmed, the 
sleeve of my coat being merely bored with one of 
them, slightly breaking the skin. Unlike the skir- 
mish of the preceding day, my powder was in good 
condition, and every crack of my rifle told. Our 
loss was two hundred killed, five hundred wounded, 
and near four hundred taken prisoners. The British 
loss was about half this number. 

The British now, unmolested, marched into Phil- 
adelphia, and took up winter quarters — Congress 
having previously adjourned from that place to Lan- 
caster. Our army took up its head quarters at Val- 
ley Forge, on the Schuylkill, fifteen miles from 
thence. 

Whilst the enem}'^ were rioting on all the comforts 
and luxuries of a rich and populous city, famine 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 90; 

sitired our army in the face. We were scarce half 
fed — were destiiute of comfortable clothing, and 
blankets to shield us from the inclemency of the 
weather — were woefully deficieiit in shoes, and near- 
ly half our army were compelled to walk barefoot, 
in mid winter, over frozen ground and snow. Many 
of our army sickened., and thousands w€re rendered 
unfit for duty. Fortunat-ely for me, I had funds in 
gold and silver, which the lamented Allen had pre- 
sented me on his death-bed ; but such was the desti- 
tute condition of the surrounding country, that 
even with this I could scarce obtain the necessary ar- 
ticles of food and clothing. 

On the 18th of June, the British evacuated Phila- 
delphia, crossed the Delaware, and retreated to- 
wards New York. Aj)prized of their movement, a 
detachment of our army had been despatched by 
Washington to aid the New Jersey militia in staying 
their progress — whilst he, with the main body, cros- 
sed the Delaware in pursuit. On the 28th, the two 
armies met at Monmouth, when a severe and bloody 
battle ensued, in which we obtained a decided ad- 
vantage, our army remaining on the field through 
the night, with a view of renewing the attack in the 
morning. But the enemy, availing themselves of the 
darkness of the night, had made good their retreat to 
New York. ^,,1^ ,;. 

In this engagement both armies suffered greatly 
from the intense heat of the day. No less than fifty 
or sixty of the enemy fell dead from this cause, and 



100 LIFE OF 

many of our troops died in like manner. For my- 
self, I suffered almost beyond endurance. My tongue 
became so much swollen as to protrude from my 
mouth, and I was borne from the field almost insen- 
sible and lifeless. It was many days befo?*e I recov- 
ered from this prostration. Our loss in the engage- 
ment was about seventy killed — among the number 
several officers ; and one hundred and fifty wound- 
ed. The British loss w-as much greater, being about 
one hundred and fifty killed'and two hundred wound- 
ed ; one hundred prisoners were taken, and they lost 
by desertion about one thousand men. 

It will be impossible for the compiler, in the lim- 
ited space assigned him, to follow his father through 
the eventful campaign that ensued ; or to give to the 
reader even a synopsis of the remainder of the inter- 
esting journal and manuscripts he left behind him. 
Suffice it, then, to say, that he was at the storming 
of Stony Point, where his indomitable bravery 
was conspicuously displayed, and where he re- 
ceived a severe wound — was subsequently engaged 
in many skirmishes with the enemy — i\nd finally 
wound up his eventful military career, covered witV 
honorable wounds, at the memorable battle of YorkJ 
town, where the proud Cornwallis was compelled 
to yield to the superior prowess of our arms, and 
surrendered his whole army, amounting to more thai> 
seven thousand men, and one hundred and sixty- 
pieces of ordnance, principally brass, to the victori- 
ous Washington. With the exception of here and 



JOSHUA. sLocuar. |j94^ 

there a slight skirmish, this battle substantially clos- 
ed the war of the revolution. 

On the 19th of April, proclamation was made 
through the army, of the cessation of hostilities, and 
the few rejiiaining posts held by the British were 
soon evacuated — Savannah in July, New York ia 
November, and Charleston in October. ■ r] 

The 3d of November having been fixed upon, by 
Congress for disbanding the army, the commander 
in chief, in farewell orders, bade an affectionate adieu 
to his soldiers. The following are his closing words. 

" Being now to conclude this, his last public or- 
ders, to take liis ultimate leave, in a short time, of 
the military character, and to bid a final adieu to the 
armies he has so long had the honor to command, 
he can only again offer in their behalf, his recom- 
mendations to their grateful country, and his prayer 
to the God of armies. May ample justice be done 
them here, and may the choicest favor, both here 
and hereafter, attend those who, under the divine 
auspices, have secured innumerable blessings for oth- 
ers. With these wishes, and this benediction, the 
commander in chief is about to retire from service. 
The curtain of separation will soon be drawn, and the 
military scene to him will close forever." 

These were the last words of the father of his 
country, on taking leave of the gallant band who 
had fought shoulder to shoulder with him, through 
the bloody conflict that resulted in our National In- 
dependence, and secured to us a constitution of civil, 
9* 



lOSf LiPK or 

government which may justly be pronounced " the 
most stupendous fabric of human invention." What 
a position does our country now exhibit, when con- 
trasted with its condition at the close of the revolu- 
tion ! at the period when the leader of its victorious 
armies took his farewell of them I If the spirits of 
the illustrious dead were permitted to look down 
from their resting places in Heaven upon the trans- 
actions of this nether world, what would be the joy 
of the immortal Washington at beholding the mighty 
change which half a century has produced in our 
moral, social, and political condition ! 

But we must hasten to the close of our narrative. 
The printer is at our elbow, and limits us to the brief 
space of five pnges at farthest. Hence much that 
we would wish tosny, must be passed by suh silent io, 
and the remainder given multum in parvo, as Busteed 
would say. 

It has been seen that my father, true to his solemn 
asseveration, on entering the service, served faithful- 
ly through the entire war ; at the expiration of which 
he received an honorable discharge, accompanied 
with an high encomium from his officers for the gal- 
lant services he had rendered his country. But how 
poorly were these services requited ! He had spent 
eight years of the most valuable part of his life in 
fighting for the liberties of his country, and when he 
retired from the service, the miserable trash with 
which he was paid off was altogether unavailable — 
good for nothing. But the reader has seen of what 



JOSHUA SLOCT7M. 103 

unflinching stuff he was made. He did not fight for 
honor, office or emohiment — the sacred cause of his 
country was nearest his heart ! For her he fought — 
for her he bled ! — and it was pay and glory enough 
for him, to know that he had contributed to render 
that country Free. His was pure patriotism — self- 
ishness had no admixture in his composition. Would 
to God that the boasted friends of Liberty of the 
present day partook, at all, of the spirit that actuated 
him ! 

About two years after the close of the war, my 
father married a Miss Dunn, the daughter of a very 
respectable farmer in Northbridge, Mass., by whom 
he had twelve cliildren. For several years he fol- 
lowed the profession of fanning, and acquired some 
property — which, with the sum Capt. Allen had left 
him, (being about $800,) placed him in very easy cir- 
cumstances. But the mania for speculation, then, as 
now, existed to a considerable extent, and he be- 
came a victim to it. Having two brothers in Nova- 
Scotia, who had migrated thither with his father 
during the war, and learning that provisions and oth- 
er merchandize commanded a high price there, he 
was induced to frieght a vessel with an assorted 
cargo for that place. Having invested nearly all 
his funds in this speculation, he sailed from Boston 
on the ISth of November, 1789, in the fond antici- 
pation of realizing a little fortune from the adventure. 
But in this he was doomed to disappointment. He 
not only lost all the money he had invested, but came 



104 LIFE Of 

well nigh losing his life. He arrived at his port of 
destination in mid-winter, and disposed of his entire 
cargo to one Levi Thayer, who was reputed to be a 
merchant of good standing, but who afterwards prov- 
ed to be a most consummate villain. In payment 
for his cargo, Thayer gave him a draft upon a ficti^ 
tious house in a neighboring town, which he assured 
him would be duly honored on presentation ; and 
advised him, as the nearest route, to traverse Port 
Rosway woods, it being but one day's journey. Pro- 
viding himself with snow shoes and provisions for 
the day, he proceeded on his journey, the marked 
trees indicating his route. Night overtook him, and 
he found himself in a vast wilderness, far from the 
habitations of men. With his snow shoes he dug 
a hole in the snow, which was near tliree feet deep 
on a level, in which he slept till daylight, and then 
renewed his route. Another night found him in the 
same predicament- — and yet another ; and it was not 
till the sixth day, that he reached his place of desti- 
nation ; almost starvedj his limbs frozen, and scarce 
the breath of life remaining. For the last three days 
he had subsisted on birch bark, and a couple of sqir- 
rels which he had killed with a club and eaten raw ! 
It was some weeks before he recovered sufficiently 
to transact business, but in the interim he had ascer- 
tained that there was no firm there that answered 
to the name of liis draft ; that Thayer had practiced 
a gross fraud upon him, and had sent him through 
the woods, knowing the distance, in the firm belief, 



JOSHUA SLOCUM. 105 

as he afterwards acknowledged, that he would perish 
from cold and hunger before reaching his destination. 
Sufficiently recovered to travel, he retraced his 
steps, in the hope of regaining his property ; but 
Thayer in the nnean time had failed, and not a ves- 
tige of the goods he had defrauded him of could be 
found. Thus stripped of every thing, he took pas- 
sage for Boston, where he arrived safe, after an ab- 
sense from home of near six months. Here new 
trouble awaited him. His long absence, had alarm- 
ed his creditors ; his remaining property had been 
seized and sold under the hammer, and he was com- 
pelled to commence the world de novo^ with not a 
penny in his pockets ! His was truly an eventful 
life — checkered and marked by vicissitude and dan- 
ger that few have to encounter. 

His after life was spent in agricultural pursuits 
in the town of Sutton, at which place he died in the 
sixtieth year of his age. His widow subsequently re- 
moved to Hartford, where she died in May 1842, 
aged 76. She received a pension up to the time of 
her death. 



THE END. 



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